In All Our Ups and Downs
by Amplesound
Summary: Officer Murdoch and Charlotte Taro were meant to meet each other, were meant to intrigue each other and are bound by an obscure intrigue over the mystery of the ocean. However, the Titanic is steaming into a disaster that will change their lives, the Western World and their perceptions over what could lie at the bottom of the ocean and what will.
1. Leaving Port for Squids

**A/N I have watched Titanic too many times for my own good (The characters of this story are movie based by the way...) and have done all the research I could possibly withstand in my brain and probably, also, not so much for my own good. These stories are written beautifully, the ones that follow suit with dying officers and lost loves, friends and family (Please, no offence meant - for I wrote a sad something too) but I can bare it no longer. My heart breaks everytime I watch the movie and then it gets worse when I read these lovely fics. Love hate, love hate. So without further adu, let me say this, I refuse to kill off my or histories characters. Just this once. And one more thing disclaimer...Titanic movie and blahdiblah belong to James Cameron and stuff but the historical heroes and the unfortunate souls that perished, belong where they should. Peace.  
Nyeeeeow...!**

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Charlotte Taro had a terrible start to the day she was meant to board the RMS Titanic and leave for America, absolutely terrible.

She was awake by 0500 hours am when she only needed to be up by 0700 hours, and upon a near fall into a second dose of sleep, the sound of her door slamming due to a gust of wind caused her to jolt upright. But having been right on the edge of her bed with such a jolt, it was inevitable that she would fall out of it. Not only that, the bedside table was too close and so she went for breakfast with what one could only call a small yet definitely present, second head. That was not where it ended, however. With a measly breakfast of bread and butter for the average morning, she deemed herself lucky to find some jam, alas, that too went awry and landed up on her pyjama top. On the morning of April the 11th, 1912, the day the Titanic arrived in Cork Harbour, Ireland, Charlotte Taro was not a happy lass.

Aboard the Titanic however, at exactly the time Miss Taro had awoken in a dismal mood, First Officer Murdoch awoke with shine. He was dressed and ready by an hour later and had finished his doings a good 45 minutes before the great ship anchored in the Irish harbour. So with nothing to do but wait he and Officer Lightoller stood upon the bridge and watched the harbour grow ever bigger and draw ever closer, spying out the passengers who had already arrived and were waiting with an excited buzz to board the luxury liner. Both men, it might be added, were equally as excited for their reasons were that they were carefully hand-picked officials – the first, no less – to guide the passengers and ship on its lofty way to America and probably its lofty way back.

"Well, would you look at that," Murdoch cooed with a mild Scottish tinge for an accent, "That's the closest I've been to home in a long while,"

"Mmm," Mr Lightoller agreed, "That's the downfall, I suppose. Home is always in passing but never a destination,"

"What are you talking about, Lightoller? You live around the corner," Mr Murdoch had a lovely sense of humour, a true Scotsman, where as Mr Lightoller, though susceptible to such humour, was not always one to give the laugh. But the two Officers had worked together many a time before and in their own ways, had grown rather fond of each other.

Mr Lightoller let out a small snort of a chuckle, leaning towards the harbour as his chest heaved with it. It was short lived however for before they knew it, the harbour was below them and it would not be long before the passengers would board and they needed to be ready,

"Well, Port approaches, Mr Murdoch. We best be getting on."

"Ow..ow…ow, what exactly are you trying to do to my head?" Charlotte snapped at a friend who agreed to see her off on her grand adventure. That being said, Charlotte Taro was indeed, quite the adventurer, having been all over Great Britain, part of Europe and Asia simply because various opportunities and potential opportunities lead her there. For the time of the 1900's, it was unusual for that to occur but Taro had found a way to jump the system and lived her own life in, more often than not, men's clothing and not that she was not shunned, she was but that too – she did her best to ignore. It meant the friends she found were the friends worth keeping.

"Yer goin' to have a right bruise above yer eye, there," she poked it one last time as Taro winced but said nothing, rolling her eyes dismissively instead, "Swellin's gone down though,"

"Oh how lucky I am,"

"We're Irish; we couldn't expect anythin' less,"

"How witty,"

"Oh, lose yer mood, Taro, yer going to America on the grandest ship in the world! I would give anything tu have a mornin' like yers if it meant I got to go,"

"Want my ticket?"

That was met with a right cold stare which Taro had not the time to answer to when the call for passengers to start boarding was issued throughout the harbour and the buzz grew even more excited. People shoving forward, losing each other, finding each other, meeting each other as they all tried to make it on first or second. But Taro hung back for as long as she could for the moment had finally caught up with her and realisation hit like a steam engine to a building. She froze, though the shove was forcing her to take tiny steps forward. She turned in a frantic moment of panic,

"Seriously, do ye want my ticket? I can't do this,"

But her friend laughed and waved,

"Goodbye, Taro! Hope you meet a lovely man and come back married. It'll be a happy endin' fer us all!"

And then her face was gone – her friend was gone and Taro had said nothing but panic and offer her ticket away. Once she made it to the gangway door, received an odd look from the officer receiving all the personnel, found her room and left her bags to their own fate to gaze out over the waiting sea, she was rather glad the offer was not taken up.

She sighed and made her way to the bow of the ship, cautiously approaching the furthest point of the rails so that she could look down or rather out over the water just to let her heart settle. This was new, this was terrifying, this was possibly the worst idea she had ever had – this was an adventure. For what were adventures if not a series of bad ideas? Looking down, for one, was a horrific idea. It was high and the water was dark and endearing and the thought of both taking her from the rails was not one she wished to entertain and yet the more she looked the more she entertained it. Taro was not distasteful of the sea, merely weary of it. She loved it but not so much as to do something stupid like so many before her that lead to their deaths but heights, on the other hand. Who was not, even a little, nervous of heights?

A lurch from the ship as it left port told her that the ship was on its way and that if she didn't have her wits about her the next time that happened, she would undoubtedly find herself falling to the sea.

She hurried to where the rest of the third class Irish passengers stood, waving their goodbyes to friends and family they could not see or maybe to no one in particular. Taro was waving to her friend, she couldn't see her but at the same time, back on the ground, her friend couldn't see Taro either so what did it matter – the point was they were waving for each other.

First Officer Murdoch stood next to his Captain, Captain Smith, once again, a small, proud smile paying over his thin lips. He had been demoted from Chief Officer as did Lightoller but it mattered no more. He was a senior officer aboard the Titanic and that truly, only meant good things. Looking out over the sea, he caught sight of three people leaning over the bow of the ship – third class passengers no doubt but their excitement could not be missed. Murdoch took his leave then and made his way down to the third class deck, eager to start the first round of his many pending rounds aboard the enormous vessel.

Since being on the lowest deck and having taken stairs that gazed straight out towards the bow where the three passengers looked out too, Murdoch got a closer look at them and listening to their accents – one was American and the king of the world, the other Italian and probably Lord of it. The last but not least, was female…

Murdoch furrowed his brow in mild confusion: A female wearing men's clothing or so it appeared. She was no King or Lord of the world, she seemed to be just herself, gazing out over an ocean she'd never dared have crossed if luck did not lend its hand to her. The thought made him smile and so came the, all-too-often-referred-to, phrase, "The luck of the Irish."

In that moment he saw the woman turn away from the royal duo, followed by their protests, with a look of mild discomfort. He watched her approach without truly looking where she was going, opting to stand right in her way merely for the fun of causing someone embarrassment. Not out of cruelty but because Murdoch was Scottish and with Scottish blood came Scottish mischief. His plan worked as intended, for right at the last minute, she had turned for one last glance to the sea and backed up straight into him.

"Steady on, Miss," he smiled warmly though his triumph was sending tingles throughout his body. She literally seemed to bounce back before turning to him in shock,

"I…did not see you, Officer, I apologise,"

"Ah, yes, as would have been the case in any soch scenario," he winked at her, straightening his askew sailors cap. She took a deep breath, a sigh to accompany the dismissive smile of his sarcastic wit.

She was pretty, in her own way; a more rounded face, rosy cheeks, a little freckly, a full head of loose reddish, brown curls tied in a bun, falling out here and there, complementing her features well. It was the air of confidence mixed with uncertainty that caught his attention however. That rounded, rosy cheeked face of hers looked like it had seen a lot of many things both good and bad, the hint, perhaps, of someone that was forced to grow up a little too quickly but did their best with what they had. The laugh lines featured prominently too and he found that rather gorgeous,

"I take it yer not a fan of the sea,"

She was distracted,

"Say again?"

"The sea, you don't like it much, I take it,"

"Oh no, I love the sea I just don't like the idea of fallin' into it, if ya get ma meanin',"

"All the monsters that lie at the bottom of it that come up to eat sailors when they're hungry,"

"Giant squids and…probably the Loch Ness monster and other wild things, aye,"

"Loch Ness Monster…from the Lake in Scotland, outside Glasgow? A little far from the sea wouldn't you say?"

"Aye, well, so was I until I packed me bags and came here," she shrugged and glanced once again, out towards the other two travellers and of course the sea.

He chuckled haughtily – she was joking, using Murdoch's own humour to her advantage. He liked that, was impressed by it. They may not have shared the same love of the sea, but having the knowledge about the truth of what lay in it was more than enough to deem her a suitable acquaintance.

"Officer William McMaster Murdoch, at your service, Miss…"

"Taro, Charlotte Taro," she shook his hand apologetically though with a fully-fledged grin upon her slight face, "Sorry, don't quite have the name as you do…all three with title an' all,"

"Oh, not a bother," he shook his head earnestly, "On that note, Miss Taro, I'm afraid I must bring this lovely talk to an end though it has been a pleasure meeting you, Ma'am,"

He tapped his hat as she saluted him and off he went. A good start to the voyage, thought he. And it was; all beginnings are made better when one starts off with a smile.

He did his rounds with his mind constantly replaying his and Miss Taro's thoroughly entertaining chat floating through his head and by the time he had finished he realised he had hardly looked at all. He frowned over his imaginary footprints that indicated his unfocused journey about the ship, his lips pursed with a little "hmmm" escaping them as he did so.

"Not happy with the floorboards, then, Mr Murdoch,"

Murdoch turned to find Lightoller making his way towards him, his hands casually yet gentlemanly clasped behind his back, "I thought them just fine myself until I clipped a shoe on one of them. Unfortunately I kept walking without paying it any mind and now I have lost the devil that gave my shoe its first sign of ruin,"

Murdoch looked at him and then back at the deck and then back at Lightoller, trying to separate the humour from the genuine. He failed,

"The deck is fine, Mr Lightoller," he turned from his colleague, his friend, and started back towards the bridge, glancing at Lightoller's offended shoe, "So is your shoe, mate,"

"Not as fine as it was," was the blunt reply that followed Murdoch as he departed.

Murdoch laughed as he ascended the stairs to the bridge, saluting the young helmsman, a warm smile to put him at ease, before he turned to the sea once more – the duo now gone, he wondered if Miss Taro might have another attempt at standing by the railings.

Miss Taro had no such inclination as for the time being. She made her way to her cabin which she shared with 3 other people. Luckily two being a couple so as not to be the only woman…however, she did worry about the night times…

The other was a young man about the age of 28, but he was Swedish and she didn't understand him nor he her so their relationship began and ended with "hellos".

"You a'righ', Miss?" the man from the couple asked in a thick backstreet, English accent, "You seem a li'l green…"

She frowned in ponder, shaking her head,

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

So the adventure had commenced in all its magnificent, heart pounding, opportunistic, exciting glory and all she had on her mind were giant squids.

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**I love reviews: Good or bad. If you have critism, say so constructively please. silly, rude comments just aren't worth your time. I don't read them anyway.**


	2. The Gaint Squids Lack of Imortance

**Titanic Rises 2**

Mr William McMaster Murdoch, once again, rose to a fine morning aboard the RMS Titanic. It wasn't nearly time for his shift but he enjoyed breakfast with his colleagues but that being said, he had noticed that Mr Charles Herbert Lightoller had obtained a wee bit of a disgruntlement of sorts and it showed up more prominently when Mr Wilde was about. The way Lightoller glowered at the man when all he did was offer him tea presented Murdoch with a distinct decision to make every morning: To tell Mr Lightoller to pull his socks up and get on with it for there was nothing to do but deal with it (and perhaps mention that there was no faults to lay on anyone – Mr Wilde was just lucky) or he could laugh and laugh and laugh but choosing one of those would lead to a glare from either Wilde or Lightoller. Having experienced both, he thought it best to delegate days as to whose side he'd be on. It would ware off later as it always did. This particular morning, he opted for telling Lightoller to pull his socks up.

He sat down with his crew minus the Captain, for he had been called to an urgent meeting by Mr Ismay, just in time to see Mr Wilde sigh and offer tea to all including Lightoller, his face already bracing itself for Lightoller's glare of death. It came as expected accompanied by a curt, "No, thank you, Mr Wilde."

Mr Murdoch accepted gratefully and so Mr Wilde left for tea with a limp smile and a shrug,

"Good Morning, Will, by the way,"

"Aye, Sir," Murdoch liked Wilde even if Lightoller didn't. He was a kind and gracious man and if all was truly lost, then it could be relied upon that the Captain had the right of it, Mr Wilde was very good at his job and he worked hard to gain that reputation too. He also, never failed to address him as a close friend rather than crew member.

"Still not so fond of our Chief Officer, are ye," Murdoch didn't look at him as he began to butter his bread, yet still amused.

He could see Lightoller look at him out of the corner of his eye for a long a while but the man gave up when Murdoch refused to look back,

"No. You think it's because he knocked us out of our positions-"

"I do think that, I also think it silly,"

"Pity. No, Mr Murdoch," Lightoller sighed, looking down at his empty tea cup, "the answer is much simpler than that,"

Murdoch looked up across the table straight at young Mr Moody who also, was waiting patiently for the truth, alongside Mr Lowe,

"I do not like him,"

Just then Mr Wilde returned with their tea and as Mr Murdoch took his cup from the Chief Officer's hand, he was asked,

"Who was that young man you were talking too yesterday? You seemed rather intrigued by him," Mr Wilde took a sip of his tea while staring over the rim of the cup expectantly.

Murdoch hesitated for a moment, unsure of the implication, cocking his head subtly; taking a sip of his own tea proceeded by a lick of the lips and a nod of approval, he responded,

"Third class passenger, a woman, I might add, begging yer pardon. Taro, I think her name was,"

"Unusual name…familiar, unusual attire," Wilde frowned,

"Aye. She's from Ireland. Young too,"

"Traveling alone?"

"Indeed, Sir,"

"Brave for a woman to be traveling alone,"

"Yes, Sir."

"The men's clothing help, no doubt," Lightoller piped up then, clearly interested in Mr Murdoch's unusual discovery. They were sailors, professional, gentlemanly sailors. Though women were not strictly forbidden, their lifestyle made it hard to lure such a complex species in so when the topic of 'meeting someone' came up, it always sparked interest. Murdoch could see Moody and Lowe lean in to listen and he felt a certain feeling of pride that it was he who had met someone, not them.

"What do you mean, Mr Lightoller?" asked Wilde. Lightoller threw a dirty look at him before answering the question but more as if he were answering another crew member,

"Mr Wilde, here, mistook this young woman for a man. Surely if one man did then many do – traveling must be easier when your identity is less desirable to people who wish to cause you harm. If you understand,"

They nodded, all in agreement of Mr Lightoller's statement. It made perfect sense and once again, Mr Murdoch found his thoughts drifting, pleasantly towards the conversation Taro and himself had had the day before.

"So what's on your mind, then, Mr Murdoch, Sir?"

Moody's deep, assured voice and boyish face drew Murdoch away from Taro once more and he gazed at Moody, thoughtfully,

"Giant squids."

Silence prevailed over the small table as the strange comment sunk in. Murdoch had no doubt that every officer, around said table, was now thinking about the possibility of giant squids and in that silence, only his awkward slurp of tea was heard.

Charlotte was up early too and up, take note, to a better start. No slamming doors, no falling out of beds, no spilt jam on pyjamas although no pyjamas to spill jam on was a let-down, having forgotten to put them in her bag once she'd taken them off the morning of departure. No sore heads either, the bruise was there but the size of her head was back to normal.

She thought of Mr Murdoch – he was the first thought to come knocking at her door that morning as well. She was reminded about how she should have told him that she had seen him in the paper about a month before Titanic was set to leave. Him and the others – she couldn't remember their names as she couldn't remember his but that had struck home when he had reminded her of it, so she figured should she ever meet the others that the same occurrence would occur again. With men such as them, names would not be an issue – it was remembering who belonged to them that would cause chaos.

Anyway, the point was, if she had told him, it would probably make him feel proud which is what she felt all of them should have been feeling. She trusted them. She would tell him today if she saw him again. Which, rather unexpectedly, she did.

"Mr Murdoch!" she proclaimed as he rounded a corner she was about to round too. He seemed equally as taken aback as she did given his sudden pause in stride when his eyes met hers.

"Miss Taro, what a pleasure," his look of shock slowly dissipated into a warm smile. He was not particularly handsome, nor was he horrendously ugly. He lay perfectly in between the two extremes. He had the look of a man with a warm heart; hard working and gentle as well as a good sense of humour. He was charming – and that was the alluring factor about him. If not for that, Taro wouldn't have been considering giant squids all night…or so she told herself.

"Up a little early, aren't you?"

He locked his hands behind his back, waiting for a descent reply as if to assess whether it was worth an A+ or not. Taro in response dropped her head and looked at him from beneath her eyebrows, unintentionally giving him full view of her bruise,

"New –"

"Whatever happened to your head? You have a right foul shiner there," he indicated where though she was already aware,

"Ah…aye, I fell out of bed the other day. My head hit the side table,"

"Bad start then, that day, no doubt,"

"No doubt,"

"So it wasn't the giant squids that were botherin' ye,"

She chuckled at the memory,

"No, but I still wonder,"

"And you should do too. Loch Ness monster I'm a little sceptical about but squids in the sea, must be so,"

"Alright, Mr Murdoch, you win," she waved a hand dismissively. The monster, yes she knew would probably never make it to the sea without being seen at least but she couldn't think of any other sea monster that might come up and eat them alive.

"Do I?"

"No Loch Ness monster in sea, aye, you win,"

"Ah, right,"

There they stood in silence, content in each other's company. Her eyes drifted to a crevice in the floor and there they lingered as she considered it. But it was not long before a strange feeling crept up through her spine leading her to lift her eyes to where Murdoch's watched in wait. A pensive look on his face as he, like her over the crevice, considered her.

"What?"

"Nothing at all, Miss,"

With that he bobbed his head and on he went. He was gone by the time she thought to say anything but she said it anyway,

"Well, goodbye then," and so she moved on too, glancing down at the crevice one last time. That was going to bother her.

She made her way onto the boat deck and made her way to the foremost railings again to attempt another look – she would not be conquered by such an impossible idea. They said the ship could not sink and although the obvious truth was that it could, she chose to believe that it would be more difficult to sink it and therefore help would come within the required time.

But alas, her courage failed her and she turned quickly on her heal when she peered over it.

"Oh no, no," she muttered to herself, "No, no, no, no,"

"So, I've met someone. Saved her life the night before last, went to dinner in a first class dining room and then went to the party in steerage with her. Gonna tell her today, I think,"

Jack was another passenger she had met. Fabrizio and he were a team; they were the two that she'd met when she first boarded, the two that were King and Lord of the World. She sighed when she laid eyes upon his love-struck, puppy face,

"Who is and what is that?"

"Well, the girl Tommy said I'd have angels flying out of my 'arse' before I'd meet her. Anyway –"

"Oh, right, the one with fire on her head,"

"Yeah –"

"She stands out in a crowd, that one,"

"Yeah, I know. But…wow…you know?"

"No," _Maybe_

"Well –"

"You going to tell her how you feel, is that right?"

"Yup," he stood, rocking too and fro on his heels with one hand in his pocket and the other carrying the usual art book.

"Good for you, mate, absolutely well done." She made to carry on past him but paused, "That's really, quite admirable," and she meant that with all her heart. Jack was a strong, lad, brave, grown up with a rough life but he'd done his best and what he had to show for it was his art which in honest truth, spoke a thousand words more than a lengthy description. She and Jack carried on towards the others who she would undoubtedly have met in the end; Tommy and Fabrizio. They greeted her enthusiastically and so the day wore on with talks of adventures and art and where they wanted to go and what they should do together when they had the time. The possibilities were endless, really and each one made Taro smile with excitement.

"You should find yerself an American man!" Tommy's sudden comment caught her off guard and her mouth dropped. Taking a moment to recover from the shock, she smirked,

"That's funny, Tommy, truly, I'm laughing inside,"

"What's wrong with American men, huh?" Jack shoved her lightly but enough for her to sway slightly off balance though her smirk turned into a smile made for mischievous fun.

"They talk like you," she winked,

"Full o' shite, ye mean," that one was Tommy and that was him done for the day, Fabrizio and him chuckled endlessly while Jack merely put his hands behind his back and gazed at her with dismissive amusement, ignoring the others. The look was boring into her and she folded beneath its weight,

"Ah, no worries, boyo. It's not the fact about being American tha's the problem; it's the notion of being told to meet someone at all. Not like ye, my friend," she shrugged, "But it's getting' on, ye should hurry op and go tell Rose how ye feel soon if yer going to tell her today,"

Jack nodded, considering both statements.

It was late afternoon when he finally moved off to try his luck and Fabrizio had seen the girl of his dreams walk past too so he was gone within a heartbeat. It was just Tommy and Taro in the end, chatting away quietly about life stories and such. Tommy was fun, full of cynical beans but fun, a go getter of sorts with a temper as foul as the dogs that came to do their first class business on the third class deck, which was often and it drew equally as foul looks from the third class passengers, including Tommy and Taro…often.

"Bastards,"

"Well, now we know where are in the scheme of things,"

Tommy snorted,

"Because I forget," he put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a scowl. Taro had nothing to say about it other than watch him smoke. She was thinking most profoundly about something or another when Tommy broke into her thoughts,

"There's the Officer, doing his rounds again,"

She looked up and over to where he was looking amazed by the fact that she was hoping to see Murdoch, amazed that she was hoping to see anyone really, let alone he.

"Tha's Murdoch,"

"Oh you know 'im?"

"Met him, know him? Probably not."

"Well he must know you, here he comes,"

"What?" she looked over to see exactly that, Mr Murdoch was approaching with a purposeful stride in his step. He was soon joined by another Officer, one more stern looking and ever so slightly taller.

"Ohp, there's two of 'em! What have ye done?" Tommy looked at her incredulously but she didn't have an answer, instead she watched their approach with wonder, running through all the things she might have done wrong: 1. Spilt water on the floor, 2. Spilt jam on the floor, 3. Didn't tell him about the crevice on the floor?

She narrowed her eyes, her face showing the absurdity of every thought that crossed her mind – 4! She was caught sneaking up onto first class decks in the middle of the night, which she had done…twice. Her face settled with realisation and let her head sag to one side,

"Miss Taro,"

"Afternoon Officers,"

"Aye," Tommy tossed head in a manner of greeting which indicated he didn't much care for the incident but the Officers were polite enough to respond to it with pleasant "Afternoon, Sirs."

"Miss Taro, this is 2nd Officer Lightoller," Murdoch introduced his colleague with a brief show of his hand as Mr Lightoller inclined his head, "Mr Lightoller, this is Miss Taro I was telling you about,"

The words were out of her mouth before she had time to stop herself or realise that she wasn't even sure it was the case at all,

"I'm sorry for sneaking onto the first class decks, it will never happen again, I swear,"

The two men were silent; Mr Lightoller declined his head once again with a look of mild confusion while Mr Murdoch simply looked impressed,

"I was wondering who that was," he said thoughtfully, "But that will have to be dealt with at a later stage now if you'd be so kind as to come with us, please, lass,"

She rose hesitantly giving Tommy a wee look of what could only be described as_ an oh-shit-moment. _He returned the look but did nothing to delay the process of whatever was to happen to her; instead he continued to puff away with his cigarette hanging limply from his lips.

"What have I done, Mr Murdoch?" She asked as they proceeded to the steps that lead up to the first class decks.

"Nothing that I know of," He winked at her but it didn't make the unpopular feeling of foreboding go away. Mr Lightoller was silent altogether, his stern face showing nothing whatsoever.

They made their way up the steps onto the first class decks and into a foyer with photographs all over the walls of famous sailors and the awards presented to them written beneath the pictures in memory of their heroism or the magnitude of their services and such. Mr Lightoller pointed at one of the small pictures but it had the most awards by far, the most significant she guessed.

"Do you know who that is?"

"No idea,"

"You haven't looked,"

"Why should it matter? I don't know anyone past or present that relates to this,"

"You sure?"

"She's sure, Mr Lightoller," Mr Murdoch took a step forward, laying a hand on the small of her back, "We found this today. Look at the name,"

She peered down at the little photo, squinting slightly, due to its haze and spoilt complexion.

"Mr…Hen-har-Henry…T..Taro?"

"Tha's right,"

"So?"

"He looks like you,"

"How can you tell?" She looked at him incredulously but Murdoch smiled and pulled out a piece of newspaper, handing it to her.

"This was taken recently, for your Grandfather was working well into his 80's. Before ye ask, no, he was not a sailor at that age but he knew a lot so he was a consultant of sorts but back in the day when he did, well…you can see, he was a man to be noted,"

"How do you know he was my grandfather?" she asked in wonder at the paper now crunching beneath her fingers.

"I asked Captain Smith on a whim and he lead me into an entire tale about him ending with the words, 'I believe a relative of his is on this passage,'. Right then I knew it was you,"

"Indeed, I came purely for the sake of meeting you. He was a great man, admired by many," she glanced at Lightoller who was still looking down at the paper. But glancing over at Murdoch, his lovely eyes were firmly set on her.

"But I don't know him…"

"Aye," Murdoch nodded, "But you know that story. I would have offered to help ye find him, but he's gone now, bless,"

"That story…" she knew it fool well and it would have been nice to know him for the sake of family rather than fame and fortune.

"Aye, I don't think he knew of ye. The way the Captain spoke of 'im, I don't believe he would have let you live on with the life you had If he could have changed it,"

Taro's gaze shifted between Murdoch and Lightoller with amazement as they both looked on in earnestness.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Lightoller uttered,

"Ye…yes…Aye,"

The next thing she knew she was flinging her arms around both of them but Murdoch was the only one who bothered to hold her back. In that little moment, however, Taro was flying. She heard, Mr Lightoller take his leave politely and Murdoch nod against her shoulder but she didn't bother to let go, to respond. She was flying because she was not just anybody, she had the blood of a "somebody" in her veins and that made her feel like she was a footprint not a stain.

"Well there ye go, love, there ye go," she heard him mutter softly.

She was being held by Murdoch too, of course. Somehow…she was flying and Giant squids had nothing to do with it.


	3. No Squids This Night

**Titanic Rises 3**

This day was the day to end all days and Taro had heard it all; from Jack's failure to woo Rose to Fabrizio's triumph over doing the opposite. Further still, all the way to the top of the tower of knowledge knowing that she had the blood of a great, great man causing through her veins. Taro now sat with a small smile on her face in the middle of the third class deck. In the middle, yes, for she felt that was the epitome of greatness, to be in the centre of something magical rather than the side where no one bothers to see you. She was third class so she knew no one really bothered anyway – 1st class passengers at least but it was the feeling not the facts that mattered. She had Mr Murdoch to thank for that and in a way, Mr Lightoller too, for he boosted the old ego right to the top just by saying all he wanted to do was meet her because of her relationship to someone he admired. The crew were all people to be admired so having them admire her – ish, meant the world.

The centre of the deck it was.

"What are you doing?"

"Sitting,"

"In the middle of the deck?"

"So it would appear," she turned to look up at Jack, "I'm sorry about Rose,"

"You said that already,"

"Aye, but I mean it. It was brave of ye tu try soch a thing,"

Jack shifted uncomfortably on his feet and sniffed,

"Yeah…thanks,"

He left her then, wading off towards the bow of the ship where he leaned on the rail to ponder the breaking waves below him as the Titanic ploughed on through the water. They were there until late afternoon, when the sun began to sink with a slow start, casting an orange haze over the ship and making the horizon look more like a physical place than just a line of light.

She would have left but she got the feeling that her presence was alright with him. However, with the descent of the sun came slight footsteps, the sound of heels on wood and then when she turned to see who – she was surprised to see Rose.

She looked at Taro with a pleasant smile but said nothing and Taro understood. Now was her cue to leave. She picked herself up and smiled warmly at Rose, taking note of how pretty the flaming, red head really was. She took her leave with the words,

"Hello, Jack," echoing after her. She had a pretty good idea what happened after that.

Murdoch was on the bridge again, watching the sun go down. He had been watching Taro with curiosity too. He smiled when she first arrived on the scene but was in a mild state of confusion when she sat down, placing herself dead centre in the middle of the deck, legs crossed, straight backed. He'd seen how some young lad had arrived behind her, shared a few words and then proceeded to the bow rail. He leant as if he were heartbroken. He let his smile sadden a little at the memory of being in love and having it break him for the first time. He was younger then and foolish. If his memory served him well, he had done the same thing as this lad; leaning over the bow of a ship wishing things had gone differently with his love. Alas!

But then something remarkable had happened, a first class woman (who really shouldn't have been allowed down at that time of day – though exceptions had to be made. He had made many as of late) with a head of fiery hair arrived allowing his Taro to take her leave of them. The lad and this woman spoke for a time and then she flew, or so he was sure she felt. He'd done that move too. And then…well, and then.

The day was saved, so it seemed. He enjoyed seeing that, made his sailors heart glow and it made him very much aware of his own predicament as wonderful as it may have been, it was also profusely annoying. His thoughts could not focus on one thing, wondering off to many other things all rotating around Miss Taro. Twice that day, while looking at paper work, he had slammed his papers down as well as his hands onto the table at a loss for he was getting nowhere. Three times had he had to ask people to repeat their questions or whatever they were saying to him for he did not hear though he was listening, it would not do.

"Mr Murdoch, Sir? I'm here to relieve you of your watch, Sir,"

Murdoch turned to see young, Mr Moody waiting for him to respond to something or other…what did the boy say?

"One more time, Mr Moody,"

"I am relieving you of your watch, Sir,"

Mr Murdoch dropped his head, make that four times. The lad didn't seem to mind though, he was a good boy; young, eager and ready. He stood to attention with his hands behind his back and Mr Murdoch noticed he had no tea for the first time in many days for Mr Moody seemed to be always with tea, without fail. If there was none, he would have no fear, perhaps he would pull it from his sleeve or he had it hidden in his cabin locker. Murdoch would have to investigate this tea business.

"Thank you, Mr Moody," he took a step down, "You have no tea,"

"No, Sir," Moody seemed a little lost.

"Why not? You always have tea, why not this day? It will be particularly cold tonight,"

"Out of tea, Sir,"

Mr Murdoch nodded in understanding but he didn't believe it. _Give it 30 minutes, _thought he. He left Mr Moody with a confused look on his young face and made his way to his cabin. Mr Wilde passed him and they chatted briefly before Mr Murdoch excused himself from his company – he was a tired man.

He passed Mr Lowe too who nodded,

"Mr Lowe,"

"Evening, Sir. Fine evening,"

"Aye, a little chilly though,"

Brief but lovely – he enjoyed talking to his crew. Each man was worthy of the Titanic, he was sure of that and he made a point to speak to them all when best he could.

Mr Lightoller passed him too and as luck would have it, the man tripped and almost found the ground. The incident left him cursing and saying not a word to Mr Murdoch who had to round a corner as fast as he could to keep his hysterics from being heard. He entered his humble little cabin and shut the door and then without even thinking about it, he removed his hat and let his head fall against the wall with a dull thud.

He shut his eyes and let every thought he'd been trying to suppress simply be. Every one of them was,

Taro Taro Taro Taro Taro Captain Taro? Taro Taro Taro.

He was out the cabin and on the hunt before he could tell himself to rethink.

Charlotte Taro, on the other hand, on the deck below in her own cabin was staring at a dress the wife of the backstreet London man had laid out on her bed with a yellow toothed smile. She was trying to hide a grimace as the older woman explained to her that it was her mother's before her and she thought it to grand for "an ol' hag" like her to wear. It was lovely – black lace though not quite so beautiful so as to look first class,

"You shou' wear I'!" she exclaimed rather loudly and much to Taro's horror – men's clothing was easy to get around in and far more comfortable and she had no doubt, that on the gloomiest of nights, when there was no bed for her to sleep on, it saved her from unwanted hands and other body parts roaming where they shouldn't without her leave. But not only then, she never felt like she belonged in a dress, always itchy and scratchy – always needing bust adjustments…she was sorely tempted to shake her head vigorously but thought better of it, replying instead with,

"I don't know if that's a good idea,"

"Oh I think you'd look lovely! Come on then, off with your clothes an' on with my dress,"

Before Taro knew it, she was standing in front of the woman with the black dress on having her bust adjusted. She rolled her eyes, being in the exact situation she wore men's clothing to avoid.

"There you go!"

The woman stepped back and admired her work while Taro felt awkward and scrutinised. She was shoved out the room and told to go flaunt her beauty after a minute of being examined so Taro had nothing to do but walk and flaunt, making her way towards the deck, wondering if perhaps Jack and Rose were still there.

Murdoch made his way passed all the officers and upon reaching the third class deck, he met Lightoller on his way up,

"Mr Lightoller,"

Lightoller looked at him; slightly taken aback by the manner Murdoch announced his name – panic? Relief? A bundle of nerves at every turn, however, no doubt.

"What's wrong, Will?"

"I was…nothing," Murdoch truly did want to tell his friend about everything but something stopped him. Though Lightoller was a tremendous friend, it wouldn't be enough to say that it would bother him if he knew his best friend and colleague was having an affair with a woman on board a vessel he was meant to be working on professionally – granted an affair is what it came too. He wouldn't say a word, Murdoch knew, for he was a loyal man but to his job as well – his predicament would be over what was professionally right and what was right to do as a friend. No, Murdoch decided best not to tell him.

"Will?"

"Hmm?" Murdoch was already three steps passed him but he stopped when Lightoller called him (he always called him "Will" when Murdoch looked or Lightoller, himself, was uneasy).

"Are you well?"

"Don't you worry, Mr Lightoller," Murdoch tipped his hat, leaving Lightoller to climb unsteadily up the stairs back to the bridge.

He was about to open the door when Taro did first – she saw him and shut it immediately. Murdoch took a moment to register what had just happened, staring blankly at the blocked door frame trying to gather his thoughts and realisations and place them in the correct order such as, 1. This is the door to the third class cabins 2. I must go through this door 3. Find Taro in the depths of what lay beyond said door.

His realisations being: 1. Door was slammed in face, 2. By Taro, 3. Who's in a dress…

Once that was done, he laid a tentative hand on the door handle, twisted and took an equally as tentative step through. Taro was in the corner pressed up against the wall, her eyes screwed up tight in anticipation and panic. Murdoch considered her in this state, amused by the false fear of being caught in a dress – after having him see her in clothes she normally wore for so long, she obviously knew that should he have seen her, it would have been a shock and not such a good one but that was why he began to grin. He was delighted by every aspect of this situation: 1. She was terrified of looking beautiful, 2. She was beautiful…or just…more so.

"Open your eyes, Miss Taro,"

"No,"

"Why not?"

"I'm wearing a dress! The fear of giant squid's onder the sea is no match for the fear of you seein' me in a dress, Mr Murdoch,"

Murdoch paused, considering his next few words carefully,

"If it's any consolation, I think yer lovely,"

Taro's eyes opened slowly, the fear dissipating while being replaced by a mild little flush to the cheeks,

"Really,"

"Oh, aye," he winked, "Come, Miss Taro, I think it's time for a walk,"

He offered her his hand which she took with a little smile as he guided her out of the door way back outside. The air was crisp and cool, the breath of the Atlantic air breathing down her neck and Murdoch let go of her hand but briefly as he adjusted his own coat, turning the collar up to counter the cold. He let out a hot, fast breath to indicate that he was cold before smiling at her again and placing his hand back in hers. She looked amazed which made him laugh aloud.

"Why is it soch a surprise fer ye to have me holdin' yer hand when, quite honestly love, it's hard not to when yer wearin' something like tha'?'

"Eh…"

"Yer shy, is all. Yoo should let tha' go,"

"You try,"

"I'm holdin' yer hand. I did that all by myself,"

They got to the bow rail once again and suddenly the atmosphere changed. Murdoch felt his hands grow clammy inside his gloves and he felt a cold bead of sweat forming on his temple and so…

He let go of Taro's hand.

"Uh oh…" she uttered, for the drop was sudden and it seemed to make her nervous.

"Look, Miss Taro…Charlotte," he looked at her for assurance which he was relieved to find was affirmed, "My thoughts are jumbled. I can't look at the floor without thinking about Mr Lightoller's shoes…"

He frowned, it was absurd really - the connection between Lightoller's shoes and Taro but it was there. You see, once Taro and Murdoch had had their very first conversation over giant squids it was just before he went on his rounds on which he distinctly remembered looking at the floor a lot because he wasn't really looking more than he was deep in thought over giant squids and his dear Miss Taro. That lead to his realising of that, at which point he looked up to take a closer look at the ground in more thought to be disturbed by Mr Lightoller who made an amusing remark about his shoes which then lead back to Murdoch looking at the ground, retracing his steps and landing back up at the point where he first met Taro thus it was in those little moments that he realised that he enjoyed looking at her, enjoyed talking to her and ultimately enjoyed her as a person and now standing at the bow of the Titanic, his hand having just left Taro's, he realised every connection and the mere fact that he truly had a problem. You see?

Shoes.

"Mr Lightoller's shoes?"

"Aye…"

Taro didn't really understand his thinking but she somehow understood his stammering, sweaty look. He was nervous and trying to find words only emotion could describe and so she sighed and looked him in the eye,

"Yer an honourable man, Mr Murdoch…William,"

"Will," he corrected, "I wish I could say the same about my thoughts,"

"But that's all they are, isn't it so," she smiled, "No one knows about them unless you choose to let people in on them. It's not the thoughts that make the man or create the consequences, it's acting on them and how, that do. You're alright, Mr Murdoch."

"Well, I told yoo, didn't I?"

He looked her in the eye back. She was lost, he did choose, didn't he…

"Ye may have…"

His face softened and he gazed on over the bow rail, towards what could have been America, depending on how hard you looked.

"Three more days,"

"Not long,"

"Not enough," he took a breath, "Well, Miss Taro, would yoo like to see a map of our headin'?"

Taro paused, a little taken aback at the sudden change of topic although the layout of what lay before them was appealing, she nodded without a word. Her hand landed back up in Murdoch's and off they went. Sneaking around corners, poking around where passengers should not have been poking, it was exciting and twice did Murdoch do a spinning exit, twirling Taro on her tip toes and racing back around in a different direction due to unforeseen danger that lurked there. Taro wondered if Murdoch was merely on the run because it was fun more than because it was a true risk – he was 1st Officer after all, few had the right to question his motives.

The duo eventually made it into the Captain's quarters where all the maps were laid out on tables and pinned to the walls along with Ice-berg warnings; Taro took note…many of them. She wondered if maybe it was not a better idea to stop for the night but her thoughts were dragged away from that to the rustling of Murdoch unpinning a particular map and laying it out on the table before them,

"Here we go," he pinpointed Southampton, "We left from there and we've travelled op,"

He dragged his slender, gloved finger up towards Ireland and Taro felt a wee twang, for home was now only the size of his fingertip. Ireland was very small, "Tu Cork, tha's where yoo boarded,"

"Yes, thank you, Mr Murdoch,"

She rolled her eyes at him for he knew full well that she knew where she boarded from, despite having lived about 20 miles north of the harbour somewhere in the country for most of her life.

He grinned, "And then ye can see here how we've cut across the Atlantic,"

"That's quite a way,"

"Indeed, fast though isn't she?"

His eyes were glowing with pride, their corners crinkling up as he smiled. She had to smile back; he was like a boy with his first kite,

"Aye, but we knew that,"

"Knew it? I wouldn't say that, I think it's still a myth but when we arrive; then there'll be a party, eh!"

Taro shrunk down onto her knees so that the map was eye level,

"Did my grandfather do the same route?"

"Aye, I think so, not particularly sure, though. I'll ask Captain Smith tomorrow. But I don't think he went via Cork, he went straight through to New York and then South a wee bit."

"Thank you," she cocked her head, feeling Murdoch kneel beside her, his coat rustling as he did so, "I would like to know,"

She let her head lull and she found it on Murdoch's shoulder, comfy and nestled into the crook of his neck. There they were in each other's company, comfortable in the silence that followed their conversation, each one in their own thoughts although in the end, it didn't take long for Mr Murdoch's thin lips to find Taro's. With roughly two hours before Murdoch had his shift again, Taro was, for the first time, glad that she was wearing a dress as was Mr Murdoch but he regretted not undoing his tie earlier that evening. However, we leave them there to go out the door, down the stairs, round the corner, passed Mr Moody and his tea and on still. Up another set of stairs, passed Mr Andrews and Trudy who are occupying the same area though are not in any way part of each other's company, Jack and Rose are making a run for it too and on still passed the helmsman and following Mr Lowe to where Mr Lightoller stood with his hands clasped behind his back gazing out over the vast, black, icy expanse of water that was meant to lead them to America.

Mr Lightoller glanced up at the sky, as clear as day with stars twinkling away without a care, the wind hushed right down to a point where the only disturbance in the water was the enormous vessel itself. He became all too aware of that fact when Captain Smith joined him, swirling his tea,

"Good evening, Mr Lightoller,"

"Good evening, sir. Fine evening," he commented casually, gathering courage to state his concern over the all too still ocean.

"Yes, indeed, like the doldrums, not a breath of wind," The Captain chuckled softly, content with his tea and the ship. Mr Lightoller hesitated for only a moment,

"It will make bergs hard to see without any…breaking water at the base,"

"Hmm…" the Captain had been disturbed and he didn't like it, Lightoller could see by the way he had grown rigid. It bothered Lightoller, more than he could have thought to say. The Captain was an experienced man but it seemed a bit of a rash move to put the ship on full speed into iceberg territory where visibility was hindered by the lack of wind and the night had no moon. The Atlantic seemed to be waiting for them to make a mistake and this was the right way to go about doing one.

"Well, I'm off," the Captain said suddenly, not addressing the 2nd Officer's concerns, "Maintain speed and heading, Mr Lightoller,"

He was gone before Mr Lightoller could respond but years of his own experience taught him to never leave silence alone after the authority had left,

"Yes, Sir,"

He wasn't sure how long he had been standing there watching the horizon like a hawke when Mr Murdoch joined him, extremely perky and very light of foot.

"Mr Murdoch," Lightoller greeted him suspiciously,

"Evening, Mr Lightoller, and no emergencies I hope,"

"Nope, but the captain seems a little…off, this evening. Do you think it wise to drive the ship full speed in this weather?"

"What weather?"

"Well that's the point, isn't it?"

Murdoch glanced at Lightoller who was still glaring at the horizon.

"I'll keep an eye out, Mr Lightoller," he nodded, trying to reassure him but he didn't seem to take any notice.

"Mr Lightoller,"

"Yes, Sir," Lightoller's attention turned haphazardly to Mr Murdoch,

"Have you not seen the binoculars for the look out?"

"I haven't seen them since Southampton,"

Mr Murdoch frowned and sighed, those damn Binoculars had been gone for days now; it was nights like these that needed them.

"Well, I'll be on my rounds. Cheerio!"

Murdoch nodded as Lightoller departed from his station. The air was incredibly still and Murdoch rubbed his hands together and blew, trying and failing to warm them. Two lovers, the ones from earlier, the fire head and the young man, burst out onto the deck below him, drawing his attention away from the task at hand. They were most definitely in love and he smiled, let out his own little chuckle, aware that he was in the same state as them.

But it was short lived for it all happened at once; the bell, shouts, the rushing around trying to avoid what was so suddenly ahead of them,

"HARD TO STARBOARD!"

Run, run, run here and all the way there only to rush all the way back to shout,

"HARD TO PORT!"

Alas, the ship shook them all out of their boots and as Murdoch clung to the bridge wall and watched the enormous black berg pass them, it was all he could do not to die on the spot from a sinking feeling so heavy in his heart – he was on lookout and he wasn't looking. But the berg was huge; the ship seemed to be crumbling,

"Jesus," his breathing haggard and shaking, running back to close the compartment flood doors, "Christ!"


	4. The Squid Shall Be Under Consideration

Titanic Rises 4

Charlotte Taro had felt the shudder of the ship as she was granted access back into her cabin. She was in the middle of throwing back on some of her hold clothes just because they were comfortable when she was lurched forward and then back as the ship grinded against grit. Cold grit…she dreaded.

She had run down the passage and up the stairs out onto the deck towards the bow only to stop dead upon realising she didn't have to go far to see what had happened. The iceberg was enormous, a giant block of ice, immovable even against the force of the Titanic as it collided and with that in mind, dread filled Taro up to the tip top of her being as she watched it simply bob unflinchingly as they, themselves, sailed passed, wounded, no doubt. She was frozen to the spot, she managed a glance up at the bridge but nobody was there.

"Did you see that?" an excited voice came from behind her but it was someone she didn't know, an excited third class passenger who ran to the rails to peer over the side to try and get a second glimpse at the gigantic perpetrator. She ignored him and found her feet, setting off in search of answers before anything else happened but upon her journey towards the limit of third class passengers, she found Jack and Rose, also hanging over the rail in an effort to grasp the reality of what had just occurred,

"Charlie!"

Taro had just placed a foot on the first step towards the bridge when she heard her name being called,

"What?"

Jack and Rose hurried over to her, a little distressed but more perplexed – the most unexpected of all things had just hit them and floated on…or so it appeared, the reality of it was somewhat different.

"Did you see that?"

"Of course I did, I was upfront and personal with the damn thing,"

"Did you see it hit?"

"No…no, that I missed," she still had her foot on the first step, desperately trying to indicate that she wanted to go, "I'm glad I did, the amount of ice that's now on the deck would have hurt should it have fallen on me head,"

"I bet," Jack looked over his shoulder again,

"Should we tell someone?" Rose asked, a little nervous and despite knowing exactly what she meant, Taro could not miss such an opportunity to be sarcastic,

"Of course, 'Excuse me Officers, did you see that big chunk of ice in the water? I think it hit us' – but they might already know,"

"Taro," Jack glowered at her but Rose had her own fire,

"I meant other passengers – Mother and Cal, but you know that so don't act high, mighty and sarcastic now when we really need to think,"

"Righto," Taro took a step back, removing her foot from the step, "I'm sorry, you're right,"

"No," Jack took up the conversation now, his shoulders straight and alert, "We shouldn't tell any other passengers just yet until we know what's really happening,"

"Jack's right, we should wait until we're _all_ told about what's happening…"

Just then, Officer Boxhall, Mr Andrews and a couple of the other crew members started down the steps Taro was about to ascend. Mr Andrews asked something about one of the rooms – the cargo hold perhaps, Taro didn't catch it, but she did hear Mr Boxhall say,

"No, Sir, it's already underwater,"

Their voices were low and agitated, their movements rushed yet swift, whatever it was that worried them, was big and seemed to confirm all their concerns,

"This is bad," Jack mused, frowning over the deck the men had just descended upon.

"We should tell mother and Cal,"

Taro glanced at them, drawing her eyes away from the crew now on deck, examining the damage from above,

"I'm going to find out what's happening,"

"From who?" Rose called after her as she climbed the stairs two at a time,

"An Officer!"

"Which one?"

She rounded a corner calling,

"Any one!"

Murdoch and Lightoller stood in the board room while they waited for the return of the Captain along with Mr Boxhall and Mr Andrews, awaiting further instructions. Wilde entered their domain with an impatient look on his face, clearly wanting answers as to what should be done. Lifeboats? Flares? Carry on sailing? What? No one knew but Murdoch was better at hiding his impatience but he was staring at his feet so it didn't matter. He didn't see the iceberg, he didn't direct the helmsman in time, the poor lad looked as shaken and unnerved as Murdoch felt but probably more so, he didn't see anything and even upon being told to turn hard to starboard, he was probably still unaware of how close the berg was – he was acting on pure faith, putting all his trust into Murdoch's instructions and that hurt Murdoch too for he had failed on that account as well, they still hit it, porting around the berg saved the stern but if the worst was happening, then it made no difference. He felt Mr Lightoller put a quick hand on his shoulder but it was Mr Wilde, who spoke,

"What actually happened, Mr Murdoch?" it wasn't accusatory, merely authoritative, demanding an understanding. Mr Murdoch recounted his tale as best he could. He was trying not to let his voice break – he didn't see it!

Mr Wilde nodded and quite unexpectedly did the same thing as Lightoller, only it was more reassuring, he laid a hand on Murdoch's shoulder and smiled,

"You're alright, Will,"

But the ship wasn't. That came clear when Mr Andrews and the others barged in with maps, heavy steps and heavy breaths. Laying out the maps on the table, the crew was given a second hand account of what was to happen to the ship in the next hour right up until Mr Murdoch was asked how many people were aboard,

"2200 souls on board, Sir," he swallowed.

The Captain's face was pure shock, complete unwanted amazement. The worst had suddenly happened and now they had less than an hour to tell 2200 people that they needed to be organised ready to make the life boat boarding move fast and efficiently and to actually rig the boats and make them ready for the passengers all with knowledge that it would be a slower process anyway for they didn't do the life boat drill scheduled for that day _and,_ the worst of all, there were too few life boats. They had to ensure that 2200 people felt sure they would all be fine when it would be the exact opposite. It was a definite bet to say that passengers would die. The captain declared that it would be best to delay the panic for as long as possible but Murdoch knew that in about 30 to 40 minutes, panic would catch on as people would begin to realise their situation as dire, desperate and hopeless one by one. Chaos was waiting patiently in the corner.

They were all out the room and on the move within seconds of the Captain giving them orders,

"Mr Lightoller, Mr Lowe," Wilde was saying as they marched through to the helm, "You will handle the boats on the Starboard side. Mr Murdoch, you, Mr Moody and I will be on Port, clear?"

The room was momentarily filled up with "Aye, Sir's" but silenced followed quickly as the Officers departed,

"Right," Wilde blew his whistle and suddenly the bottom crew of the Titanic was upon them, being divided into two groups: one to go with Murdoch and another to go with Wilde and before he knew it, Mr Murdoch was shouting orders, hauling ropes, unhooking chains, pulling off the life boat covers – sending half his men up to the second deck to start unhooking the collapsible boats.

"Mr Murdoch!" he didn't register until his name was called a third time. He turned to find Taro standing in an alert, up and ready to run sort of position, her hair slightly dishevelled, cheeks slightly pink and visions of what had happened only an hour or so before hand came flooding back and he momentarily shut his eyes to try and shove the memories back,

"Miss Taro,"

"What the hell is happening, Will?" her face showed no sign of nerves, of love, of hate, of anything – this was a different Taro, this was someone ready to fight for her life – he concluded she'd seen something he would come to wish she hadn't have.

"This is not the time,"

"Like hell, it's not the time!" she took a step, "I saw the iceberg, I heard what one of the Officers said to Mr Andrews when they were on deck. This ship is meant to be indestructible and I've just heard that something's already underwater,"

"Look, Charlotte, please –"

"WHAT is happening?" she silenced him momentarily, becoming aware of the fact that she was not leaving without an answer, "Is this ship…sinking, Mr Murdoch?"

He took a moment, glancing around at his life boats, his crew, his unbelievable misfortune, and nodded.

"We have an hour, roughly,"

"An hour,"

"Aye," he was distracted again as one of his crew members alerted him to a mishap with one of the boats. He turned from Taro to sort it out, slipping this through there and unhooking that and shoving this here and resorting to cutting it all together, he stood back and grimaced at his achievements, having not quite gotten the desired effect. When he turned back, however, Taro was gone.

Taro raced down the passage in an attempt to find Fabrizio and Tommy but as luck would so ironically have it, they found her, having been awoken by one of the crew members throwing life belts in their faces and then stepping into ice cold water.

"Jesus, hell, this water's bloody cold and now the life jacket's? What's happenin'?" Tommy sounded aggravated, "Did you see what happened?"

Taro nodded, "We hit an iceberg,"

"Yer jockin'," Tommy's mouth fell open at the concept as did Fabrizio's, both men gaping at her in disbelief,

"We should get a move on before the storm hits," she started ahead but Tommy held her back,  
"Wait a minute, what storm, is this that bad?"

"Are we sinking?"

Tommy glanced at Fabrizio and then back at Taro – like Fabrizio, who had seemingly stolen the question from Tommy's lips, Tommy waited for an answer, his hand grasping Taro's wrist.

"Aye,"

"WHAT?!" Tommy took a step back, dropping Taro's wrist as he did so but she clamped a hand over his mouth before he could say anymore,

"Keep it down! If you cause panic down here there'll be a stampede and we'll be dead before the water even reaches our ankles. They're going to close the third class gates and make us wait while they load the 1st class passengers first –"

"Bullshit, how do ye know that?" Tommy spat, "They can' keep us locked down here, we'll be drowned men 'fore they think of letting us through,"

"Drowned or stepped on," Fabrizio added to disgruntled agreement of the others,

"Aye, that's why we're goin' up now. It's what's been happenin' the whole time we've been on this ship. It's always first class first – why do you think they call it first class?" she turned but was retained once again and this time she let out what seemed to be a small snarl of irritation and impatience,

"What! What now?"

"Jack and Rose,"

"They were above deck last I saw,"

"Yeah well, where are they now?"

"I don't know but I'm sure they'll be fine, now do you have any more questions or can we move on so that we can get locked out rather than in?" She waited but when no question came, she was on the move, up the steps to the gates, but they were manned and shut already.

Murdoch had just hooked up the last boat on the lower deck when the first of the passengers started strolling out. Oh how he wanted them to just stop being so idle and pull their socks up and recognise a very real threat.

He watched them in a sort of numb stupor for a moment, appalled at how insignificant they regarded people below them to be.

"Mr Murdoch," Lightoller pulled him from his thoughts, "How're your boats looking?"

"Rigged and ready,"

"Women and children first,"

"Aye, Mr Wilde informed me. What are you doing?"

"Making sure you know that! Mr Wilde can't be trusted," he was gone before Murdoch could retort back.

He gathered the passengers before him and gave them the briefing he was given, telling them to move quickly and efficiently and above all, to keep order. At the last instruction, they all looked at each other with puzzlement. But slowly but surely, things started to move. One by one, passengers were getting into the boat and for the first time in his whole career, Murdoch shouted the words,

"And LOWER AWAY!" and he watched as the first of 6 boats his side, was lowered to the sea. He tried to hide it, and he did it well, but he was shaking, not from cold but from a feeling of failure. Why was it not going away?

Taro, Tommy and Fabrizio moved through the gathering crowd to the front where Tommy confronted the steward,

"What the hell are ye doing, man?"

"Go back to the main stairwell; everything will be sorted out there,"

"That's not an answer, boyo," Tommy's eyes narrowed and he looked threatening but the steward paid it no heed,

"Go back to the main stairwell,"

"You BASTARD!"

"Tommy, calm down, let's try somewhere else," Taro put a hand on his shoulder as she made her way back down the stairs, followed by Fabrizio and Tommy on her heels,

"I can' believe they're doing this. Look, op here,"

Taro turned and followed Frabizio and Tommy up to a second gate but they were turned away there too.

"figlio di una cagna!" Fabrizio swore, "There's niente this way,"

"Or any way!"

They went down a different passage but upon taking a left turn into rapidly rising water, they turned back, the panic rising in each of them equally as quickly – an hour.

The first boat was dispatched quickly enough, now half way through the second but upon glancing at the bow and realising how fast it was going under, he became increasingly aware of the shoving and agitation starting to happen at which point he turned briskly,

"You will keep order here," he looked as many people in the eye as he could resisting the urge to lay a hand on his firearm but he knew his orders would not be listened to for long so he turned back and repeated his words once again, sending the second boat on its lofty, tilting way down the sea.

Taro kept popping into his head with each new person getting into a boat, he hoped that she might make an appearance and that he might miraculously find a way to smuggle her on board but if she never showed there would be no hope. But that second boat he sent down carried the majority of his crowd and now he was running out of people to put in lifeboats. He turned to one of his crew mates,

"Where is everyone?"

He pointed down to the bow of the ship which was now slowly rising to a 90 degree angle and up there the crowd was gathering around Wilde who was starting to look desperate, shoving people back as well as trying to get his boat sorted out.

"Mr Moody,"

"Yes, Sir," Moody stepped forward with purpose,

"Go bring some of Mr Wilde's passengers down here, we need more people. Hurry, Mr Moody,"

And hurry Mr Moody did. The lad was fast and alert, ready for action and acting on instructions faster than Mr Murdoch had the mind to realise.

"Right! You two with me nou!" he called two men and they followed him up to the top deck where he laid two hands on the collapsible and looked at his men,

"We need to push this one doun,"  
"How, Sir, by pushing?" one man asked,

"Aye, we don't have the time to rig it and lower it gracefully. Come lads,"

Together, they lined up and got ready push, hoping that Mr Moody had sense as well fast legs for the passengers certainly would not have any at this point, if this boat fell on them, they would be crushed beneath it and the job of loading people in and lowering it down would be a grizzly job and much harder due to reluctance to settle in it that they would surely receive.

"Hold it!" he shouted as he felt it being shoved a little too hard, "Hold it!"

But it was too hard, and despite knowing it to be useless, he still shouted, only louder,

"HOLD IIIIITT!" and over the boat went, those who weren't expecting it, falling with it, luckily Mr Murdoch was not one of them. He jumped down from the top onto the boat, onto the ground, turning to Mr Moody,

"Where is everyone?"

"I tried to get as many as possible but they're reluctant to come near the water, Sir,"

This prompted Murdoch to look down, it was rising fast.

"Keep trying, Mr Moody! Go up and command the people to come down,"

"Yes, Sir," and he was off again. Mr Murdoch took a breath,

"Let's get the ropes hooked up!"

Rose and Jack were seemingly missing until they rocked up looking wet and terrified behind Taro, Tommy and Fabrizio. They greeted each other as friends in need would and Jack turned to them all,

"Can we get out?"

"It's hopeless that way!" Tommy gestured up the stairs to a closed gate.

"Alright, let's go this way," he started to move but Tommy, Fabrizio and Taro stayed still,

"Jack, we've gone every way, they're not letting us through," Taro looked at him solemnly but Jack wasn't done. He marched up to the front of the crowd and demanded entry. But to no avail, he encountered the same as them only he was more inclined to act on it. He shook the gate violently and swore at the stewards who were shouting back, telling him to stop but he didn't need a second telling off. He grabbed hold of a bench and started pulling at it, telling Fabrizio and Tommy to help him.

"Oh, Jesus," Taro uttered, immediately taking a step to the side, pulling people with her, while Rose went about doing the same thing; she eventually joined Taro by the wall, letting out a small stressed sigh,

"This is unbelievable,"

Taro didn't respond, opting to rather shut her eyes and wait for the gate to be broken down somewhere in between the roaring voices and clanging of metal. The gate broke soon enough however, and they were through, charging through corridors and passages to the decks. But what they met there was not any better than below. Chaos had reared its terrible face and all who were trying to keep order were failing miserably.

The bow was down, Wilde and Lightoller were screaming at their passengers while they screamed back. Chaos.

The four amigos stood in horrified, terrified, stupefied silence for a few moments, taking in what was unfolding so rapidly before them and Taro blanked for a nanosecond, lost in fleeting thought about life after the sinking but that's when the shots rang out, cutting the air like knife.


	5. No Time for Squids!

**Titanic Rises 5**

Charlotte Taro spun, stunned, trying to find the source of the shot but no source came about. All that was about was the roar of the masses as everyone tried to fight for a space in a boat. Taro took a breath, taking note of the steam that exited her mouth upon breathing out – it would be a watery and very cold end for the Titanic…

"Charlie! Come, we're movin' op!"

Tommy grabbed her arm and urged her to follow them as the group started up the ship to find a boat that would be willing to take them on, Jack leading the way with his hand clasped tightly in Rose's, inseparable, they had become.

They made it to Wilde who still had relative control over his crowd, arms outstretched, lowering a boat to the sea with many a tearful face as they left their loved ones above them, watching them, sending farewells, waves, tears that made it over the edge dropped to the sea, some even made it into the life boats – a long fall for a teardrop.

"Shit, we've missed it!" Jack turned to them all but Tommy wasn't as sure as he stepped directly into Jack's line of speech,

"No, we haven' missed them all, if we wait here, there'll be another one and we get on that,"

"Tommy, we can't afford to just wait around for a lifeboat, I've been stuck in a room handcuffed to a pipe for most of the night staring out a tiny window that ten minutes before it was underwater…it wasn't! Do you get it? The ship is sinking fast. There might not be time to get another boat lowered down from here we need to find one that is being loaded now,"

Tommy went silent, at a loss for any other solutions but Jack was right, there was no time to wait anywhere if what he had told them was the truth but then another fear occurred to her…the people on Wilde's boat were all women and children, first class too. She wondered if perhaps the boats were doing a woman and children only manoeuvre. As much as she respected that decision and more so Mr Wilde for deciding it (She had met him but once, although she did not know him well, she got the feeling that he was a man of honour), it meant that being third class, they stood less of a chance of getting off the ship but Jack, Tommy and Fabrizio being third class men…would mean they stood just about no chance at all.

"What is it?" Fabrizio had turned to her, catching her thoughts in the air while Tommy, Jack and Rose argued over what was to be done. Taro gazed at Fabrizio, bit her bottom lip and half turned to shout over to Mr Wilde who was still lowering his boat,

"I don't know yet, Fabrizio, hang on," she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled for one of the crewmen. One turned, briefly, acknowledging the fact that he'd heard her,

"What's the protocol here?"

The crewman glanced at Wilde before he responded,

"Women and children first, Ma'am, but this'll take a while. Best ya find another boa' for you and your friends together!"

She turned giving Fabrizio an odd look before pulling Jack and Tommy from their disagreements and solution searching,

"Women and children first, Jack. You, Tommy and Fabrizio will never make it on here…chances are neither will I," she glanced at Rose, her face as white as a sheet; she already knew what Taro did. Rose could get off easily if she only turned around and took a measly step off the ship onto the waiting lifeboat. All that needed to be done was to decide whether that was the right thing. She had declined once…she could not afford to do it again if off the ship is where she intended to be but Taro shrugged as Tommy looked at her with angered disbelief and Jack much the same but without the rage – his look was more disappointment – it was all she could do, really.

"So what do we do?" Fabrizio looked at them all for answers that no one had, "Split up?"

"Why would we do that?" Tommy snapped,

"Find boats quickly, find a boat that takes both the men and the women," he suggested under scrutiny. Everyone looked at him thoughtfully but Taro had made her decision fast enough, she wasn't splitting from anyone but then another thought crossed her mind and her face contorted into a look of horror. She had completely forgotten about Murdoch.

OoOoOoO

Murdoch was doing ok, boat by boat he had let three go to the sea and every now and then he looked over the ocean to see one of the boats paddling off away from the disaster and would get a fleeting sense of loss, wishing he could be on one but then where would he be? On a boat, far away, yes, but he'd never see Taro and he would see the ship he was born to love sink from a distance knowing he had done nothing to help the people on board. So his fleeting moment of self-saviour would evaporate and he would go diligently on, separating the women and children from the men and when there were no more women and children but more seats, he would put the men on board and send it off and away again. Every now and then, one man would try his luck and lurch forward at the last moment to get onto a boat where no space would be found and Murdoch or one of the crew would have to turn on them and shove back with all their might and demand order but he knew he was losing control, though, the water was much higher than before and people were beginning to realise that. Because he was closest to the rising water, he was losing time faster than most and yet here the people were, hoping against hope that perhaps others would lose faith and abandon Murdoch to find another Officer with more chance of getting on a boat without touching the ice cold hand of the ocean. It was all Murdoch could do not to tell them that the majority of the passengers were probably up there and that having them retreating to join them would only make the situation worse and slower. They stood more chance with him down by the ocean but that too was limited. Limitations were an inevitable factor given their situation. He could hear the shouts of various people, panicking, trying to find each other, others; throwing themselves to the sea for no hope was in their midst's, others; desperately trying to flee from the rising water. It had all happened so quickly. But death was not neigh yet. That was before the gunshots, he halted everything, his hands flying out,

"HOLD! HOLD IT!" the two men manning the ropes stopped immediately, completely aware of the gunshots that rang out loudly over the screams. Murdoch checked over board, eyeing the boat carefully so as to make sure no man (or woman, perhaps, unlikely though it may have been) had gotten hold of a fire arm and was using it to gain control of either boat or the passengers aboard it so as to make space – that discovery would have been hell. Luckily nobody was harmed or intending to harm below him so he rounded on the people behind him but no one there had a gun either. He concluded it must have been on the other side of the ship. Best to check too,

"Mr Moody! Lower the boat, lad and keep _them_," he gestured to the crowd behind the them, "under control,"

"And you, Sir?"

"I need to find out where that shots coming from," Another loud shot rang out; it was definitely on the other side of the ship. Murdoch abandoned post and took off through the various foyers to get to where he hoped the gunshots had not come from, alas, rounding a corner he saw what he dreaded. Mr Lightoller was indeed having a hard time and thus, he had pulled out his gun to keep the people at bay. Chaos was catching up quickly for Lightoller had fired two shots in the air to ward off the masses but his aim was at the sky. His boats were crowded and his crewmen were struggling with the weight. Murdoch worried, fear rising in him, fear for who though? Both Lightoller and the Passengers for 2nd Officer Lightoller had a fiery temper and it was only a matter of time before he would turn that gun on them. Lightoller would regret the moment he shot that gun for the rest of his life, he was a good man, it might haunt him enough so soon so as to go down with the ship and not come up…perhaps sooner.

Murdoch tried to fight his way to the front but his efforts were futile and no one let him pass and no one listened; all were focussed on Lightoller and his gun. He was moving the fastest and word had spread – the crowd had gathered in bulk and were trying to force Lightoller to let them on but again, Lightoller had a fiery temper and would not fold under such provocation so easily and would potentially lead to the suggested situation. He turned to a passenger who was panicking but in silence, explaining to him that it would be best to try and split the crowd and get them to come to his side even if it was just him but he wasn't sure if they understood him but he needed to go back to his boat. If something was to go wrong, he was the only one with a fire arm to defend them officers.

Rounding the same corner he arrived around, he almost flew off his feet in his hurry when Taro suddenly appeared in front of his path of plight. She too seemed to find his appearance equally as unexpected, for the look on her face as he collided with her was one of shock, surprise and fright. He grabbed her upon collision, steadying himself and her before the worst could happen – that being sailing into a wall,

"Charlotte!"

"Mr Murdoch! I'm sorry, I – "

"Where have yoo been?" he looked at her with a mixture of concern and agitation for she had simply disappeared after he had given her an answer about the ship. She left without a word, no information, no indication of coming and as much as he believed that she would, at the rate the night had been going – he was starting to think that she wouldn't. The thought had rattled him a little. She looked shocked again but she shook it off, an answer ready,

"I got caught up, I was trying to find people,"

"Well where are they?" he looked about him but he could see no hint of someone interested in there talking therefore not one friend was waiting,

"I left them to find you!" she let her arms fly out in a fashion that seemed to be defending her claim as being loyal to him due to the way Murdoch had implied the accusation of her completely forgetting about him. He didn't mean it like that one bit and he realised he sounded a bit course and that she had every right to run to protect others that she cared about…but she didn't tell him.

"How will you find them now?" he asked, calmer, letting his hands run down to her for arms. But she shrugged,

"I don't know. I heard shots…I ran all the way up and realised…you were in the mix of all of this too and then I had…a terrible…are you ok?"

He was frowning at her, trying to understand her stammers, her pauses in between sentences but then she asked about his well-being and all seemed to make sense and amidst the chaos and the panic, he managed a smile,

"I'm fine, love, I haven't been shot, you may have noticed and I did not shoot either,"

"Who was it?"

"Lightoller, he's having trouble with his passengers" he glanced over at the raucous crowd before he returned his attention to her, "Listen, we need to go, come with me, nou,"

He tried to take her with him but she didn't move and he turned, puzzled with her lack of locomotive,

"Please, Taro, I need to do these boats but I also need to put you in one,"

"I'm not getting into a boat, Will," she looked calm and collected, slightly saddened by her decision, "At least, I can't until I know the people I do care about on this ship are off too. I won't take a chance they didn't get,"

"That's madness," he was perplexed but her words seemed so final, he didn't know what to do.

"Then I'm mad…" she paused, her face conveying the confusion she felt about her own words. She looked over his shoulder, the noise there, dragging her attention away from her own surprise, "But you do need to go,"

"I do, but Charlotte –"

"Let go, Will, I'm going back op," she cut him off, unaware that his grip on her hand had tightened ever so slightly.

He took a step back to her,

"Can I ask something, Love," he allowed a moment of hush between them, for God knows what was to come next that he needed to prepare for. The answer he would get would either break him in two or would let him soar, "Where am I in this mess?"

He smiled warmly, trying to lessen the blow that she had taken upon realising that she was neglecting him and it was hurting him, "Where do we stand? I care too; I can't bear to think of what might happen to you if I'm not there,"

She shook her head, rearranging her thoughts as best she could…as quick as she could,

"I don't know…" she started taking steps away from him, drawing her hand from his and he tried to keep his smile on his face but he so badly wanted to shatter and walk away but he knew that she needed him to be stronger than she was now, she had made a sudden decision without realising it and she knew that too, seconds after she'd decided and it broke her, worried her that she'd hurt him. She had but he found that if he looked deep enough, it was because she was sticking with consistency. Her friends would be there when it was over – he might not be. In the future, her friends would be there, he might not be. Though of that, he, himself, was sure he would be but she obviously wasn't,

"I do," he spoke softly, letting her hand slip from his grasp as she took a step that was too far for him to reach, drifting further from him. She glanced up to where she thought her friends were, "Go, we'll find out what lies beneath the ocean soon enough,"

"Squids it is," and she was gone. She spun back the way she came and disappeared through the door and into the mass of people running up the way she'd come.

He stood for a mere second, stunned and heartbroken, letting his smile slide from his face - but now was not the time. The boats needed him and he too, left to go back.

Upon arrival, no one had tried anything just yet so it seemed but they had started bunching up against Mr Moody aggressively as he tried to keep them away from the boat as it was lowered while another crew member did the lowering. He charged through, glimpsing the last life boat that had been dispatched in the distance, aware of how un-alluring the concept of boarding a boat now seemed to become – the point seemed to disappear before his eyes but then again, the point had rushed off heroically, leaving his hand empty with nothing to protect. He whipped out his gun then, turning on the masses, pulling Moody away,

"STAND. BACK!"

OoOoOoOoO

Taro made it to the top, her head spinning with thoughts of Murdoch and what had just happened – she had so suddenly left him in her own wee panic and yet he had let her go so gracefully but finding who she had left was not a better situation – if anything, it was worse, she saw that Tommy was gone, Fabrizio too,

"What did you do? Where'd they go?"

"They're checking the other side," Jack and Rose were forcing themselves ahead of the pack, trying to get a glimpse of what the situation was with Wilde. The imposing crowd made it hard for her to see them, getting squashed between all types of people as they forced themselves forward,

"Why?"

"To see what's happening with the other boats,"

"You shouldn't have split up!" but Jack was no longer listening so she pushed her way through to them and stuck there as best she could,

"This God damn madness!" Jack uttered, pushing away several hands that wound up and waved frantically in Rose's face. Rose had donned a black coat from nowhere, her red hair falling about her face, framing it perfectly but only exaggerated her complexion to be whiter than she was.

"Would you expect any less on a sinking ship?" Rose through back at him and Taro found herself smiling unexpectedly,

"Clever," she winked as Taro caught her gaze and in there, they shared a brief moment of contentment. They approved of each other but Taro had to break it, decision time had come as they found themselves right in front of Officer Wilde as he called women and children forward,

"I think this is you," she sniffed, gesturing for Rose to turn and look back straight at Wilde who held her stupor for a good while before she turned from him to Jack. Wilde looked at Jack and then at Taro who shook her head and he was quick to move on to find someone else.

Taro bore witness to the love that belonged to Jack and Rose and Rose promptly and stubbornly refused to leave without him.

"I've got Charlie, Tommy and Fabrizio," Jack was saying, "I'll be fine, I'm a survivor, don't worry about me,"

She glanced at Taro who tried to smile reassuringly but didn't feel quite as sure as she wanted to let on. Slowly, Rose gave in and turned to Wilde who seemed to be expecting it. He grabbed her hand escorted briskly on to the life boat where another man grabbed her hand and helped her keep her balance. The moment she was on however, she turned, desperation plastered on her face as they began to lower them to the sea.

Jack and Taro watched as Rose descended, her eyes glistening with tears as she left them, she locked gazes with Taro and together they shared yet another moment they had never had before. Taro did like Rose; she just never seemed to get the chance to tell her that and in those fleeting moments, she regretted it, she raised a hand in farewell but Rose only looked back. She heard Jack sniff beside her and she glanced at him, leaning into him gently to comfort him,

"Well, there ye go, eh," she tried a smile, "One down,"

"Yeah…" he was distant, "You could have gotten on, you know,"

"I couldn't leave,"

He glanced back at her and in a moment of mutual agreement, he put his arm around her and there they stood, watching one of their own descending to safety…but not for long. Rose surprised them all and made a jump for it, her feet disappearing over the edge of the deck below them.

"Holy Christ!" Taro leaned over in complete bewilderment as Jack's arm slipped from her shoulders, reaching down towards the boat,

"Rose!" he cried, horrified, whereas Taro was simply flabbergasted at the recklessness the red head had just displayed,

"Rose?!"

She turned to Jack who glanced at her in bewilderment, a sign, a farewell, a rushed question of following or not. Taro, however, closed her eyes, countering an emotion she dare not name as she chose not to follow them for what good would it do? Jack and Rose were suddenly gone from her life due to a decision that she knew was right but felt dreadful, a weight upon her soul. She knew she wouldn't be seeing them again, not that night at the very least. But it was not all, she had split from them earlier and now her ties were falling apart; she had no idea where Fabrizio and Tommy were and Jack and Rose were gone and Murdoch…and Murdoch. The whole thing was not what she wanted but the situation was getting steadily poorer.

She gathered herself up once more, though, and took off towards the other side, in search of Tommy and Fabrizio, racing down through hoards of people that were trying to go up and it made it difficult. More often than not she was shoved back up in her attempts to make her way through too small a gap.

Eventually, the crowd gave way and she had an opening, she had run to Lightoller who was in a state of turmoil, shoving people back, his boats unmanned and unhooked lay abandoned as a mere single crew member tried to do all of the above while four others, including Mr Lightoller, who had a gun, kept the crowd from storming the boat. The crowd had obviously picked up that Lightoller had no intention of using his weapon on them and so his efforts were growing more and more ineffectual. She got up and balanced herself on a pipe that was linked to the wall, hanging from the bridge roof to survey the crowd, scanning for signs of Fabrizio and Tommy but they were nowhere to be seen. Though she did see an Officer manning a boat far out to sea and considering that she had seen Mr Lowe there earlier but no longer, she concluded that he had manned the last boat they had dispatched. She jumped down from her unsteady perch with a most un-lady-like grunt as her ankles buckled under her weight upon landing. She rectified the situation quickly enough and made her way to the last place she really wanted to be and yet the only place she would find Fabrizio and Tommy if at all: Murdoch.

But what she found seemed to be a stand-off, like the ones you'd see in old Westerns. Murdoch stood alone in the middle of the crowd, a semi-circle with his last boat being handled hurriedly behind him; unravelling, unhooking, re-hooking, latching this here and that there but the process was slow…

OoOoOoOoO

Murdoch, in the very back of his mind, couldn't believe the situation he found himself in – it was the one he had mentally accused Lightoller of potentially being in but so far Lightoller had proved him so very wrong to the point where it was Murdoch who now stood with his gun, threatening the passengers with a bullet to the body should they try and pass him. He was in a state of panic. He told himself he had no choice, that they would storm the boat for sure if he didn't, that all hope would be lost if he didn't. Minutes before, there was still panic and chaos but he was keeping it at bay simply by spreading his arms out across as many people as possible while they pressed against his back, pleading with them to get back,

"Stay back!" he shouted, "Please!"

But it had boiled down to this,

"Will you give us a chance to live you lousy bastard!" a third class Irishman hollered at him,

"I'll shoot any man who tries to get past me, get back!" he bellowed back, the gun shaking in his hands – from terror or rage he did not know.

"Bastard!"

"Get back!" but from the corner of his eye, he saw a man make a running leap for it, climbing over the ropes in frenzy. Murdoch didn't even think twice about it before he had spun round and took blind aim and shot. The man fell from the rope like lead and hit the ground like stone – dead as a doornail, no coming back from it. But the occurrence caused a knock on effect as the man fell back into the crowd. People surged forward to avoid the body thus forcing the people in front to stumble on involuntarily. The Irishman was the first in line and again, Murdoch did not think, instinctive panic taking over and he fired another shot. The Irishman fell back with a pained look on his face as blood burst from the hole in his life vest. The man behind him, an Italian, obviously a friend, caught him as he collapsed into his arms. But the horror had seemingly only just began as a voice rang out over above all others, a female, despite the roar of a shocked and aggravated crowd and the Italian shouting,"Bastardo!" at him.

"TOMMY!" it cried, "NO!"

He turned in both directions as once to see the oncoming body only to have it fly past him to collapse at the dead man's side. He recognised them both now. The Irishman had been with her one day when he had come to find her and they must have been close for the conversation and the body language seemed intimate. The face that looked at him now though, was harsh, ragged and tearful – a mixture of rage and desperation, a need to understand how a man she had grown fond of could have been shot by a man she had grown still fonder of, but he didn't know why…and it all hit him so fast.

"My God…" he muttered everyone's eyes on him, horrified, hateful and bewildered but no eye was more earth shattering than his own insightful eye. He had let himself down, having told himself he would never, could never, shoot a man no matter how dire the situation. But the situation was dire and he had folded under the pressure and in so doing, without realising it, had so suddenly lost the trust of everyone that mattered most, most of all, Charlie who now sat hunched over a dead friend, holding another as he fell apart. Murdoch looked around, Moody swallowing, his face conveying an ounce of disappointment but a sincere effort to understand, other faces were emotionless and once he had found Mr Wilde's eyes, the man stopped dead as Murdoch saluted him and proceeded to raise the gun to his head. He had become the man he was worried Lightoller would be and that, he regretted too,

"NO, WILL!" Wilde shouted but it was not he who prevented the gun going off…it did but it didn't hit him.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Taro saw Murdoch raise the gun to his head and yes, she was horrified by his deed but in the moments afterwards she had seen how much he regretted it, how much he didn't mean for it to happen and how let down he was. Gun already at his temple, Charlie upped and made a go for it, colliding with Murdoch and the gun, feeling the heat of the bullet God-knew where as it hit her…or did it hit her? Too much was suddenly happening and the only thing she truly registered was the fact that she was now falling. She had hit the side of the ship – no more ship – and had proceeded to tumble over the edge down to the icy-cold grasp of the ocean with Fabrizio's voice ringing out after her as she did so.


	6. Down to the Squids

The sea was cold, dark and dank, the pressure and bite of the water made her feel like she was having her skin ripped from her bones as thousands of finely sharpened knives forced themselves into her body. The initial shock of the cold forced her to take a breath below the surface and it made the pain even worse and her limbs seize up; getting them to move was one hell of an effort. But there was something more prominent happening in her right shoulder – it wasn't the cold that disabled its movement, or rather - hindered it, that was all she knew. The pain was far more striking, far worse and in a sense, far more real. She began to sink further down, unable to swim up with one arm and three other reluctant body parts as all her energy was relocated to her heart, to keep it running, to keep her warm and yet it seemed so pointless – in an effort to keep itself alive, her body was going to kill her.

The ocean was in turmoil above her, waves rumbling as the ship gulped water into its innards, bodies falling life-full or lifeless into the raucous chaos, boats drifting unsteadily away, lights flickering on and off – dimming and brightening depending on the amount of water that raged above her head. Taro was sure she had met her end, sooner than she would have liked but her end none the less. But that was until she saw a body look as if it had purposefully dived in so as to get the depth it required to reach…what…her?

Below the surface of the water, death was at her doorstep, the crushing ocean was pulling her down, pain was emanating from all corners of her body and Charlotte had the mind to frown and wonder what the hell was coming down at her.

She felt arms wrap themselves around her waist and a strong, sturdy surge found her above the surface of the water gasping for air, steam pouring from her mouth with every exhalation. She heard the heavy gasp behind her too and a loud cry followed by,

"That's cold! God, that's cold," it was a voice she recognised as it let out another exasperated gasp, "I've got you nou, love,"

She felt herself being more dragged and hauled than assisted along as Murdoch swum them both to safety while she half-heartedly tried to use her legs as they were freezing up but then he stopped dead. Holding her up to him, he tried to keep her as close to him as possible. She could hear splitting sounds, ropes unravelling and then, one by one, the whiplash against the water as rope by rope, each one snapped from the steamer and catapulted into the sea narrowly missing Murdoch and Taro though she could see perfectly well that others were not so lucky and those images, she would never forget. The ropes ended of course for there weren't many, but the drama itself was far from finished,

"Oh no," Murdoch uttered, starting to back paddle as fast as he could. When Taro realised what was happening, she tried to do the same but alas, her arm was now completely immobile. She glanced down to find the problem and then up to see the harrowing sight of the forward funnel crumble under its own weight, plummeting to the sea, the wave it invoked roaring up out of the water and before Taro had a chance to take one last breath, the wave washed over Murdoch and herself and they were forced below the surface once more, Murdoch holding her tightly as they were tossed and turned below. Twice was there a thud though taking note that Taro herself did not hit anything, she realised that Murdoch was taking every single one of the blows. Having the ship right next to them was an obvious hazard as they were thrown about.

At last the thundering and churning came to an end and Murdoch saw them both to the surface, as luck would have it, right by the railings. Murdoch was gasping, a bright gash above his left eye,

"Take her!" he was shouting in between gasps, "Take her!"

In an effort to assist whoever he was calling for, Taro blindly raised her uninjured arm as high as she could reach. It was taken almost immediately and she was soaring out of the water and onto the deck with barely a second to register what was happening. However, at the end of it, she was looking straight up into the face of Fabrizio who looked both panicked and relieved.

OoOoOoO

Murdoch was next in line to be helped up, Wilde grabbing his offered hand and hauling him out of the sea. His cap, needless to say, was lost, may it rest in peace.

His landing was a little more graceful, able to be hoisted up directly onto his feet rather than his back but he didn't have the time to spare to give Wilde the thanks he deserved. Murdoch had shot her, he couldn't believe it. Not on purpose, no the gun wasn't even aimed at her – it was aimed at his head, he didn't know what happened or who had been hit until he landed on his knees in the commotion while others screamed and the Italian who was now leaning over her now looked like he was going to kill Murdoch, screaming after Taro as she tumbled over the edge. However there was enough time to realise that blood followed her into the sea. He had then wasted no time in following her in and all that followed lead to where he was now, leaning over her, opposite the Italian man,

"Charlie! Oh my God…" but the wound, he was relieved to find, was in nowhere vital – it was her left shoulder. God knows how that happened but other than being a mild inconvenience, it would be fine. This then lead to the reasoning behind her being so useless in the ocean – she had been hit by two types of shock: The bullet and then the cold.

She was looking dead-pan at them, her breathing ragged, disbelief or whatever it was taking over her ability to speak.

"Bastardo!" the Italian screamed at him and the next minute Murdoch found himself sprawled out over the deck having been violently shoved away from his Taro and her friend, her fierce, fierce friend,

"You almost killed her!" his accent was thick and angry as he glared at Murdoch as he got up (he would not crawl – he had not been defeated, merely, knocked off his feet, as it were) and made his way back to them but Murdoch didn't fight back, this man had every right to be enraged at him. Hell, he was in a rage at himself,

"I know," he muttered, glancing at the Italian before returning his attention to Taro, "I know – I can't believe it,"

And then like a gale force wind, Taro seemed to regain all sense and understanding and she shot up and with her unwounded arm, she used the hand at the bottom of it to slap Murdoch with such force that he had to take a moment keep himself from going sprawling once more. The burn was horrendous and he was sure that he would carry her hand print around for the rest of the night. Turning back to her, he found she was on the floor again, the effort obviously having taken its toll on her. But she screamed at him none the less,

"What were ye doing?! What was any o' that goin' to achieve, you bastard!"

He thought the former was obvious but then again, that wasn't the point. He didn't know what he was going to achieve by succeeding, he said nothing. The Italian was looking at him expectantly.

"God damn it," Taro grumbled, "God…damn. It,"

"I'm so sorry," he folded, bending to her, trying not to cry, he was an Officer of the RMS Titanic, he would not cry but he needed to be held by someone, preferably her and to his amazement, amidst the chaotic environment of a sinking ship, Wilde yelling for ropes to be cut; she used her one arm to hold him tightly, her voice softening,

"Yer alright, Will," she whispered, "Yer alright,"

But then it all came back; the gunshots, the people, the ship, the raging sea and he raised his head just as a huge bubble surged up from the bow and he knew exactly what it was: The main foyer's glass roof had finally given out under the pressure, water was now roaring through the halls and passages of the Titanic. The sinking process would be quickened now. He got up, quickly but carefully hoisting Taro up with him while the Italian held her back for support,

"Right, time to go, the bow's going doun nou…fast. You, Sir," he pointed at the Italian who was on full alert, "are going to take her up to the stern and you will stay there. Do not jump; do not climb over the railings, take the rest of the night as it comes,"

"What about the boats?" the Italian was looking at the collapsible Wilde was trying to get loose; already floating in the water, there was no need for lowering it, but it wasn't up properly – there was no way it would stay afloat for the rest of the night but there'd be no time to dispatch the collapsible above them, pump it up and _then_ dispatch it that is. Murdoch glanced back too,

"No," he explained the situation to them to which they responded with looks of disbelief and disappointment.

"This is jost…not good, is it?" the rhetorical question hung limp in the air as the meaning settled over them all.

The moment was disappearing and so was the ship - alarmingly quickly – Wilde was in trouble, it was time for Murdoch to be the Officer he temporarily forgot, once again. He pulled Taro to him and planted an unexpected kiss on her lips, frantic but certain – surprised though she was, she returned it much to the amazement of the Italian to whom he gave a brief squeeze to the shoulder,

"Off ye go,"

"Murdoch – "

She tried to speak but he wasn't having it,

"Goodbye, Miss Taro, it's been my pleasure," and then he did the only thing he knew how to do in such a moment; he sped his way away to Wilde who received him with relief. He took a last glance at the Italian, clinging tightly to Taro's hand, as she followed him aft, away from the water.

"Help me, Will!" Wilde was saying, handing him a knife, "Cut the ropes, we don't have time to unhook them,"

Murdoch immediately got onto it, shoving people out of the way, hauling himself up a little higher to cut the rope more effectively.

His hand slipped more than once and his fingers began to bleed, his hands were going red from the cold and he was shivering violently. He was cursing under his breath but the more he tried, the higher the water rose, the more the people behind him pushed him in order to get to the boat – Wilde was struggling too, his deep baritone voice wilde (*1) with hysterics, cracking, high screeches making their way into his speech as he roared at the crowds,

"STAND BACK, DAMN YOU!"

"PLEASE stand back!" Murdoch screamed equally as wildly but he was having doubts about the reality of trying to get the boat loose. The crowd was pushing and hysterical and the boat was getting swamped anyway, the Titanic wouldn't be the only one sinking that night at the rate they were going. At last Wilde seemed to reach the same conclusion, merely cutting his rope and turning to Murdoch,

"Leave it, Will! Leave it; we don't stand a chance of order now!"

"Let me cut this!"

"Will!"

"Let me cut …it!"

Wilde yanked at Murdoch's rope and to both their surprise, it came loose and before any of them could direct anyone, or at least try, they were forced out of the way and the boat floated away with masses of people fighting for a space aboard it.

They watched in horror as the boat was violently fought over but Murdoch felt Wilde place an urgent hand on his arm. He turned and both of them looked up at the long way up, a mountain in essence, which they had to climb to avoid the water racing up to swallow them.

"Come on, Will," Wilde prompted and suddenly with a rush of extremely cold water wetting their socks; together William McMaster Murdoch and Henry Wilde charged up towards the stern with the rest of them while many others slipped all the way down.

OoOoOoO

"Come, Charlie!" Fabrizio was heaving her up the ship but Taro's legs were still not up to scratch but her arms had regained feeling and her shoulder was throbbing. They were using the railings to pull themselves up for the height was too much for them or anyone to walk up alone. But there came an obstacle, a passenger was clinging to the railings and would go no further,

"Per favore, you must go up,"

"I can't," she cried, "I can't go no more,"

Fabrizio looked at her and turned back down to Taro who was gazing back up at the woman, exasperated.

"What do we do?"

"Fabri…over there," she pointed across to railings that separated 3rd from 2nd class decks, "I don't think we're going to make it to the top, not like this, let's jost get there and hope fer the best,"

Fabrizio glanced over and then down at her, he seemed confused,

"How?"

"What the hell do ye mean?!"

"We cannot go up so how do we go across?"

"Ah shit," she hadn't thought of it but they couldn't stay there, they would end up hanging and with Taro's arm, she wouldn't be hanging for long, "Listen, on the count of three, we'll jomp,"

"You think you can?"

"I think I'll have too,"

He nodded, accepting the only option, "Ok, ok…uno, due…"

"BLOODY THREE!" and she launched with Fabrizio in hand, half running, half sliding across the deck to their destination – they made it, just. Fabrizio climbed on to join the masses and gave a hand to pull Taro up. She winced as she was pulled over, one leg over the other.

"Alright, you are on,"

"Aye, aye, I'm on,"

Looking down, the length of the ship, the people falling looked like ship parts, rain drops disappearing into the depths never to come up. Others slowly lost their size as they were let go of or they let go of their railing, or fell off their perches and dropped. She was horrified, the enormity of what was happening seemed so much more horrendous upon looking down on it rather than up – it was from a perspective in which there was a mixture of ocean turmoil and people getting churned up by said turmoil. She could hear Fabrizio's heavy breathing as he saw and took in the same thing as she, only he was thinking of his lady love while all Taro could think of was Murdoch.

"Look," Fabrizio had looked up, "Look, 's Jack and Rose,"

Taro looked up and sure enough, on the stern railings, Rose in Jack's arms as he held her while the ship rose. She tried to catch their eyes, but none of them were looking down at her in particular. The crack came then.

"What was that?!" Taro's head snapped back down to find out where it came from.

OoOoOoO

Murdoch and Wilde froze,

"Shit, where was that from? Where was that from?!" Wilde looked up and down and Murdoch looked across, another crack and a long groan, the sound of wood snapping and iron folding under pressure.

Then Murdoch saw it, along his line of fire, the ship was splitting in two. He looked down at his feet and there, sure enough, the floor seemed to be bending up towards him – the ship was going to snap beneath his feet. He moved, making wide eye contact with Wilde as he took in what was happening. So he and Murdoch put even more effort into moving as far from the problem as possible – the snaps and groans becoming more frequent as they moved up, it was hard moving in the dark too. Moments before this however, the lights had gone out, flickered and died and Murdoch could only imagine what those men had been going through to accomplish that.

Wilde kept looking back at him, to make sure he was still there no doubt but as sweet and heroic as it may have been, one snap was a little close to home and Wilde lost his footing as well as his grip and began to slide down towards Murdoch, and as was inevitable due to Murdoch's refusal to move, Wilde got tangled up in his legs and they both went down, hanging onto the railings but it wasn't long before the final snaps could be heard and then with the screams of the ship and the passengers and what was left of the crew, the vessel dropped – snapping in two, all those who were in the way slipped into the cracks and were never seen again.

The drop seemed so long and yet so short and with impact, Murdoch and Wilde both yelled as they were momentarily bounced up and almost off the ship, well aware that many people were not as lucky as them.

There was a pause as the ship settled, the water pouring into the innards of the bow and Murdoch was on his feet faster than he could blink. Wilde had obviously had the same thought, glancing back, ready to drag Murdoch with him and relieved when he didn't have too. They ran together.

But it was not far for the ascent was faster than they anticipated and Wilde and Murdoch found themselves leaning forwards so much as to be running on their stomachs before realising that they would get no further though they were close.

Wilde grabbed the railings as did Murdoch and as the Titanic rose, they lost their footing once more and there they hung while so many others slid away.

"You alright, Will?!" Wilde called down, but Murdoch was looking down at how high it was and wondered how long they had to hang there before the ship started to well and truly sink.

"Will!"

"Henry!" he looked up,

"You alright?"

"Aye, Sir, for now! Are you?"

Wilde nodded, he was getting a black eye and had a split lip and Murdoch was freezing with split hands, a gash above his eye and a conscious. They'd both been better but for the time being, it would have to do.

OoOoOoO

Not too far above them, Fabrizio and Taro had experienced the drop and the recovery. They now sat on the railings of the second class deck and looked down over a still, vertical set ship, the water below seemingly calm as they floated there.

"This is nots, what the hell is happenin' now?"

She glanced up just in time to see someone falling to them, "WOW, Fabrizio!"

Fabrizio looked up but the man fell on him before he could do anything about it. But not much came from it, he had hit something on the way down and was either knocked out or dead, either way, nobody did anything about his rolling off of the railings to the sea below.

She hadn't realised she'd stopped breathing until she desperately needed air, her shoulder still in tremendous pain. The entire ship seemed to be holding their breath, waiting – some had started showing their relief early, claiming they were saved or that at least for the time being, they'd be ok just until the rescue arrived.

But that wasn't the case, it hardly ever was. She looked down; there was a boat that hadn't been dispatched in time and now hung limply, waiting for either the sinking or the cords to snap. She hoped no one was below it. For the time being, Taro could only put her head on her hands and wait.

OoOoOoO

Below, Wilde and Murdoch hung on with the skin of their teeth but the situation had grown dire. One of the collapsible boats above them had been abandoned – probably for the same reason as their own. But it hung on by a rope that was on its last threads and the inevitable was slowly unravelling its time away.

Wilde looked down at Murdoch who couldn't believe they hadn't seen it earlier – it was an enormous boat that obviously had been slipping and sliding for a good while, how did they not see it and pick a better spot to hang on to? Alas, this was their situation and when Wilde looked down, Murdoch saw every emotion he himself had felt about seeing the hanging boat moments before,

"Oh shit,"

He glanced up again while Murdoch didn't respond. He was glaring at the boat above Wilde, willing it not to snap but the moment was short lived – his will, hope and faith all failed him as the last snap was heard and the boat began to fall, Murdoch's eyes widened in horror whereas Wilde wasted no time over such a petty thing as horror. He let go and being directly above Murdoch, the 1st Officer he had to let go too.

Wilde and Murdoch plummeted down to the sea with the boat hot on their heads, the height and the fear getting to them as they fell; screaming.

As luck, life, love, God would have it, the very moment the boat ropes snapped, the ship gave a violent shudder as the last few airtight compartments blew out and started taking on water – the Titanic was now on its way down.

The water was excruciatingly cold but with the pin drop entry and the suction of the water as it pulled the ship down, Murdoch and Wilde went deeper than they would have had the ship not been sinking thus saving them from a horrible knock to the head as the life boat above them crashed and splintered into a varying sizes of plastic and wood upon a flat impact after a long fall.

Murdoch didn't know what happened to Wilde, didn't know if he was ok, but he kicked as hard as he could away, not up, away from the sinking ship knowing that to go up against a force far more powerful than you and was going down, was stupendously futile. It was black, black as night, bubbles blurring his vision even more, ice in his ears, nose, mouth, eyes, flashes of light as the great ship blew up from the inside as the engine room went to its final pieces.

He surged to the top when he could; taking the deepest, longest breath he had ever taken and cried out in shock – the temperature of the water chilling him to the bone all over again. He turned in his breathless freezing state and saw the last quarter of the great ship that was Titanic descend into the sea, the water bubbling up like a massive concoction was being brewed up with the ship as an ingredient. He could see the people on top of it and he saw the people who weren't, either jumping from the ship as far as they could to escape the suction or merely taking it head on and going down with it. Some came up and some didn't. But where was Charlotte Taro – he couldn't take his eyes off of the ship for only that reason.

"Mr M-Murdoch!"

Murdoch turned to find Wilde swimming to him, his strokes uneven and shaky as his body tried to fight for its life,

"Mr Murdoch – God, it's c-cold – Christ,"

Murdoch wasn't sure if that was what he really meant to say but it didn't matter, what he was looking at said everything anyway,

"E-evening Mr W-w-Wilde," and they looked on in frozen horror as the last of their unreal, dream ship disappeared.

If there were giant squids below them, it was the last thing Murdoch was worried about.

* * *

(*1) - I couldn't resist.


	7. Squid-less in the Dark

**Spelling mistakes?! Blasphemy! Excuse them, I will have done a better job on this one, I hope…and the ones to come although some mistakes may be a poor attempt at an implied accent….Sorry. Also, increase Charlotte and Murdoch's back story; right, note taken ** ** I get too excited, you see and the ship was sinking! There's no time! But I will slow it down and make it a little more rounded. Thanks for the tips ** ** One more thing…I reread the previous chapter; it seems that Charlotte Taro's wound has swapped sides a few times…Oops. We'll make it her right shoulder as that is where it started**

* * *

**.**

Everything happened within the blink of an eye. Taro and Fabrizio had been sucked down with the ship, had come up and struggled out of the cold onto a door that seemed like it had belonged to one of the entrances to the lower decks passages, one of the "crew only" doors. It was a wonder how no one saw it before they did but it could only be luck in such a time.

It wasn't big enough for both of them so they had half each, their upper bodies freed from the water while their lower halves were forced to suffer. Enduring the night with violent shakes and collapsing lungs. Their hands clasped and tightly folded against their bodies, getting as close to a ball as they possibly could while they waited for something to rescue them or waited for the cold to take them like so many around the duo.

Many minutes had passed and the noise made by people splashing, screaming for help, desperately crying to the boats, believing with blind hope that the boats were still there – that they had not been completely abandoned, had quietened down so quickly. Silence had patiently waited and now it sat comfortably over the Atlantic, the odd voice ringing out over the open air in one last effort before it too, gave up. Charlie had screwed up her eyes tight, her shoulder had gone numb; from cold or blood loss, she didn't know – she didn't care.

Fabrizio was shivering incessantly, his beautifully tanned skin was now blue and his lashes, eyebrows and hair were caked with ice. His eyes were also shut tight - an endurance mechanism: if you close your eyes and tense up enough, warmth will find you again, an inbuilt theory.

"H-h-hang in there, Fabr-rizio," Charlie stuttered through the cold, her breath steaming out with every word like an upside down waterfall. He nodded and opened his eyes briefly, smiling ever so slightly,

"Ho-ow is your sh-sh-shoulder,"

"C-can't f-f-feel it,"

"Oh," he frowned, returning to the task of trying to keep warm in vein. Taro let him be and tried to look around: She saw the Pastor, she saw an Officer who she'd never met, she saw a man frozen to a barrel, she saw a wife…and she saw hundreds of silently bobbing people stretched out beyond her immediate vicinity. Where was God now? Had he so cruelly turned his back on them, truly? Or was it the world that refused to be conquered? So many had waited for a lost miracle, but no God was there to redeem them, the ocean would not change for them, no boats awaited them – no rescue had come. They were utterly alone now, with the abyss below them, so innocent as if the Titanic had never been there at all. Taro looked up at the night sky, so bright it was. The constellations so unaffected by the occurrence and yet it was probably so small a thing. For it didn't happen to the night sky, it didn't even happen to the rest of the world; Asia, Africa, South America? No, it happened to them, Fabrizio, Charlie, Jack, Tommy, Rose and the countless others. So what were they now? Waiting to live? Waiting to die?

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Murdoch and Wilde had managed to find two deck chairs and had pushed them together to make a miniature raft which enabled each of them, on opposite sides, to also keep half their bodies out of the water. Murdoch had suggested that despite the pain of moving in such cold water, it was probably better to keep moving rather than to settle in it. Wilde had accepted it and so there they were, in the middle of the Atlantic, with hundreds upon hundreds of lifeless people bobbing around them, swirling in gentle circles as they kicked to keep themselves moving. They spoke in gentle tones too, too cold to say too much, too tired to make good the conversation,

"I have th-th-three girls a-a-and h-had one son…b-b-but he died at s-six months," Wilde rattled on

"H-how?"

"In-n-nfluenza,"

"I'm-m s-sorry,"

Wilde tried to wave it off but it was half-hearted and barely seen for his hand didn't do much more than rise and fall. Murdoch wasn't quite sure what he was doing.

"Y-you?"

"A woman. M-met her n-not long-ng ago…"

"And?"

"I d-don't…..know,"

"W-what? M-more s-story, W-will. I'm-m dying, here, I n-need to be en-entertained,"

But William Murdoch had nothing to entertain him with; he had said he was born in Glasgow and dared to explain his 15 years at sea with an entire family stretching as far back as the early 19th century involved in seafaring but that was all he could endure. In honest truth over his lady love however, Murdoch had no idea what happened to Charlotte Taro after he had told her and her friend to make a clean get away – as far as clean goes aboard a hopeless, sinking ship of which now, there seemed to be nothing left of.

If not for the bits of broken iron and wood, it might have been said that these people had been dumped in the middle of the sea and told to survive for as long as possible for no reason. Minus the fact that the Titanic was expected on Wednesday morning, that theory may well have been pulled off and all sorts of exciting stories could have started up, alas, the failing of the largest ship ever to sail the Atlantic coming into Port at New York would undoubtedly be questioned…at least a little. Above all, Wilde had the right of it too; he could feel his body shutting down.

Wilde, minutes before, had blown his whistle twice to alert the drowning, freezing people to board the boats, conveying the promise that so many people had clung on too but as was said, that was minutes ago and now it was a broken promise with nothing to redeem itself with and neither Wilde nor Murdoch had the breath or energy to blow it a third time. This seemed to be it, seemed to be the end. With that in mind, Murdoch was overcome with emotion, and reached over with a shaking hand and grasped Wilde's arm. Wilde looked at him with chattering teeth and grasped Murdoch's hand without a word. And though they circled on, they didn't see any light looming in the dark and so it was, they had sailed the ship together, with a pause they had eventually dispatched boats together, they had run up the ship together, they had saved each other, they had taken the plunge together; it seemed only right that they should freeze together in the very environment they loved so much. It couldn't be so bad now could it?

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

"B-boat,"

Charlie looked up; Fabrizio was squinting out over her shoulder into a light that made his face look like a ghost though an astonishingly large grin was beginning to make its way over his thinned lips,

"Wh-what?" Taro frowned, disbelief in her tone but Fabrizio pointed, with half a finger poking from underneath his chest, out towards a bright light moving steadily through the water, voices like distant echoes in a half remembered dream wafting to her ears. When she saw it, words could not convey the relief that washed over her. Fabrizio spared her the pain of calling out by doing it himself and gradually, while clutching his arm, the light settled on his face and grew larger as they approached. It wasn't long before she felt hands grip her tightly beneath her shoulders, and though it did hurt but a little – thankfully, it meant her bullet arm was not completely lost - it was nothing compared to the feel of having her body rested on a dry surface, bombarded with warmth such as none she'd ever known.

Fabrizio was pulled up next, a blanket for him too and the three other people they pulled out of the water. Nothing could be more attractive than human tragedy but then again, nothing brought people closer together than that and so, before long, the 5 survivors on that boat, found themselves huddled together for warmth and support – they had survived.

In the distance, on the other side of the masses, another light swept over the area, scanning, other voices sang out over the silence and to Taro's dumbfounded and yet utter amazement, a warm fuzzy feeling welled up in her heart. Not one, but two boats had come back – more could have, should have, of course but human kindness had not been abandoned just yet. Many boats would have been overrun by their passengers (or not) and thus refused to come back, but these two boats decided against the odds, it was the timing that was the pity. Human heroics had yet to fail.

**OoOoOoOoO**

Wilde and Murdoch floated, oblivious to their surroundings now, too cold to care, too tired to try, so close yet too far. Murdoch and Wilde were still grasping each other, unwilling to let one or the other go, though Murdoch did become vaguely aware of the water about them beginning to ripple and spread, causing their little raft to bob against the waves though they had stopped kicking, what seemed like, ages ago.

"I see them!" Came a voice, loud, deep and baritone, "Get closer…stop – stop it, don't hit the bodies! Carefully now, get to them,"

Murdoch raised his head to be met by a blinding light, so blinding that he actually cursed Lightoller for shining it in his face,

"B-bastard!"

But he heard Lightoller's laugh of relief as if it were music. Relief and genuine amusement mixed into one,

"Yes, alright, William,"

And Murdoch found himself being heaved from the water, a maze of hands and arms that weren't his, clutching his body as he was pulled over the side. He lay down with a blanket being tucked around him and Lightoller's reassuring words,

"You're alright, now, Mr Murdoch,"

Seconds later, Wilde was placed beside him, having the same procedure done to him but he didn't expect Lightoller to say what he said next – to Wilde no less,

"We found you, Mr Wilde, we've got you,"

Murdoch opened his eyes one last time, to see if Mr Lightoller was being genuine and was greeted by the sight of the 2nd Officer clasping Wilde's blue hand with such an ardent sense of assurance that it would be the utter essence of betrayal if Wilde did not make it. And with that picture in his head, Murdoch fell into a deep sleep, deeper than the depths that lay beneath them.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

The Carpathia seemed to appear out of nowhere, unmoving in the quiet of the dawn and before she knew it, Fabrizio and the other 5 passengers saved from the wreck had left her side and were either helped up over the railings of the ship or guided into the hatches in the hull that lead into 2nd class passages.

Taro's arm was not to be argued with so she was helped by Mr Lowe, the young officer who had rescued them – or so she discovered, up into one such hatch. As she was guided in, she saluted Mr Lowe, a gesture that seemed to strike home and he gazed up at her without moving for a moment, before returning it. She smiled and then the hatch was closed and Mr Lowe was gone.

She was given new clothes, tea (or soup, she didn't quite now and makes you wonder, doesn't it?) and was given time to recuperate, her arm wrapped up in a sling and so a little while later, with another dress on (much to her horror), courtesy of those kind enough, and the blanket back around her shoulders, Taro started up towards the decks where she found Fabrizio and Rose leaning over the side to watch the survivors come aboard.

When they turned to greet her, it was not at all as one might have expected. Instead the reunion was somewhat more…quiet. No jumping into one another's arms, no tears for Rose seemed to be all out and Fabrizio was numb. She had recounted the tale to Fabrizio who later retold it to Taro with the tears that failed to arrive earlier but at this particular point in time all that was required of any of them was to be in the company they now stood in, looking over the side to watch the survivors come aboard. America was still in their midst, so was Ireland, so was Italy, all was not lost…not yet.

And Scotland…Scotland was still there too. Looking over the side, Rose pointed to one boat in particular,

"That's the boat that picked me up,"

She was pointing at Mr Lightoller's boat, empty save for three; Lightoller and two other officers that sat under the same blanket and both reluctant to move despite Lightoller's offered assistance.

As she gazed down, in apparent feigned disbelief, for of course she believed it she just couldn't believe that it was the correct belief…if that makes any sense at all. Wilde was the first to be helped aboard, the same as many before him, slipping through the secret James Bond hatchets in the hull. Murdoch, however, seemed like he was going to brave the ladder.

He got up by means of the steady hand of Lightoller and placed a firm grip on one of the steps. Oddly enough, the crowd seemed to be gathering – come hither all who seek adventure and watch the last passenger of the Titanic, the master of heroics, Mr Murdoch perform his daring climb to safety from out the cold clasp of the Atlantic, one…last…time.

Lightoller seemed to be watching intently too though his watchfulness was probably for the sake of catching him should he fall. Charlotte Taro smiled as her heart swelled with the stubbornness of the man, he was an Officer of the Titanic – nay, the White Star Line, and he would climb up this ladder to the very top and over, not through some hole in the ship no one was meant to be aware of. The Atlantic had conquered many in a fight against trying to _be_ conquered but not Mr Murdoch.

Taro left Rose and Fabrizio then, to be front and centre when Murdoch finally arrived at the top. She could feel the crowd pressing against her back as more people tried to see what was happening but she remained unmoved, waiting for his hand to place itself in her view.

It was a slow ascent and he didn't look up or down once to find out how far he'd come, or how far he had to go, it was one step at a time.

**OoOoOoOoO**

_One…one…another one…_Murdoch was literally counting only one step at a time. His legs were burning, his arms even more so, his lungs were on fire – never mind burning and he was exhausted beyond belief despite his deep sleep which, according to Lightoller, he was lucky to wake from. _Keep going, Mr Murdoch…one…one…_

He reached up once more and found wood instead of rope, his heart leapt, his blood overflowed with relief as he looked up for the first time – he had made it. But what he didn't expect to see were the many faces looking down at him with encouragement, with admiration, with pride – doing this, was what his job was meant to be. Climbing the last few steps of a giant hill that offered escape routes just to show those who could only follow, that he could still lead.

But namely one, a face he thought he'd never see again, a face that was smiling warmly at him, a face that offered her hand to help him for even heroes need help. When he took it, it was joined by more…and more…and still more until Murdoch was not climbing but flying over the side onto the deck with all sorts of signs of support. Amazed he was, after all they had all gone through, after what he had so ashamedly done – people were still able to forgive stupidity so quickly and despite their own pain, could still hold up those other than themselves and could see the better rather than the worse. This was the human spirit in its barest form.

But she was here, in the flesh, before him and if she was as bewildered as he, she didn't show it.

"Miss," he finally managed a smile back but before she could say anything, he was led away from her into the heart of the ship where he received new clothing; Officers clothing for technically he was still on duty, tea-soup; as it was now affectionately called and a debriefing of what was to come: They would make port in New York three days after the Titanic should have done and then hell would commence. The coming weeks would contain gruelling court enquiries into the how and why of the sinking in which all alive and involved would be required to attend in order to give statements and then each White Star Line Officer would be on duty again, sailing another ship or other back to Southampton at which they would endure another gruelling few weeks of the same procedure. Murdoch learned his passage home would be aboard an American ship called, The Conquest (Why that name? Because it was young and naïve) aboard which he'd be serving as Chief Officer. This was all confirmed by 12 noon that day.

For the rest of the journey on board the Carpathia however, all Officers, staff and crew of the Titanic were to be relieved of their duties on the grounds that the night of April the 14th and morning of the 15th was more than enough work to last them their lives. So Murdoch slept for a while in peace.

When he woke, Murdoch strolled the decks of the Carpathia, doing a head count as best he could, lost in thought over the events that had so suddenly happened and had so suddenly past with the time in between being the longest time of his life as well as squids. There was a list going around, he kept passing it, a list of survivors at which some laughed with relief and others cried inconsolably. He left it all and headed aft, down the first class stairs onto the second class decks and down again to 3rd class and on still. The Carpathia was tiny in comparison – he already knew his way around whereas aboard the Titanic, it had taken him four days just to make sure he could make it out of the crew's quarters and on to the decks…and that was the top of the ship. Aft at the stern he arrived where he stood with his hands behind his back, the endless ocean stretching as far out before him as it did behind him though in his sailors mind he was aware that the expanse of the sea towards America was decreasing rapidly. He took in a breath, smelling the salty, icy air and feeling the breeze on the back of his cap-less head for it had been lost, as was mentioned before, taken by a squid, perhaps. He smiled sadly, recalling the moment he first started thinking about squids – Mr Lightoller's shoes. He sighed, yes, life seemed vastly different now.

"Good evenin', Mr Murdoch,"

He turned briskly to find Miss Taro looking at him inquisitively. He was struck dumb by bewilderment once more as Taro stood before him in a dull brown dress and her red hair in a messy bun, strands falling about her soft face as it had been when he had first met her and an injured arm in a sling. He lifted a hand to tip his cap but at the last moment remembered it wasn't there and covered the error with an awkward salute. He watched her approach him and still as she arrived by his side looking out over the same sea he had been considering moments before.

**OoOoOoOoO**

He looked handsome in his new uniform, not that it was too different, maybe it was because she came so close to never seeing him again that even so small a thing as a new Uniform struck her as wonderful and gorgeous upon his broad shouldered, rough of face, seafaring body. He was quite lovely. And it became so abundantly clear when she tried to speak but stammered on first try,

"I – uhm – I g- uhmm –" _Damn._

But he didn't laugh or smile or scorn or ignore instead he waited patiently for her to speak, hands behind his back, at the stern with sea around him, Mr Murdoch was in his element.

"Ehm…" _damn, damn, damn, _"Will…I'm glad yer alive,"

She sighed, a failed attempt at charm and romance but in essence that's what it came down too.

"Me too,"

She glanced at him and there, gracing his thin lips was the same warm, mischievous smile he'd given her when she'd first walked into him. She blushed under his gaze and inched closer.

"You're wearing another dress, I see," he continued lightly, amusement in his husky voice,

"Aye and its brown," she grimaced down the length of her body, "I can't seem to escape them now,"

"Well, I wouldn't call it a shame,"

"I would,"

"I know but whether yoo like it or not, Miss Taro, it suits yoo,"

"Thanks," and she gazed out over the ocean once more. Mr Murdoch opted to say nothing to urge the conversation on so they stood in silence and the turmoil that was happening inside of Taro's head and heart seemed like nothing compared to the disaster, she was a child against a man, or so she felt, age 12 to be exact.

"What are yoo thinking about, Miss?"

Murdoch's voice broke into her thoughts right in the middle so what she said was an involuntary automatic reply, merely,

"I feel like I'm…12," she thanked the high heavens for not saying something worse.

"Yoo don't look like it. I hope you're not,"

"No, ha, fonny. 28, 10th of December, 1884,"

"Ah, 39, the 28th of February, 1873,"

"And yer story?"

"Family of seafarers,"

"Really?"

"Yup, my father was Captain Samual Murdoch and he was a master mariner, so was my grandfather and his brothers. I went to school in Dalbeattie until '87, got my diploma and followed the family into William Joyce and Coy,"

"Who?"

"William Joyce and Coy, the equivalent to the White Star Line, but in Liverpool,"

"Ah, right,"

He nodded with a wink,

"Got my second mate's certificate after four voyages – 1st try mind yoo," he rocked on his proud heels at which Charlie chuckled, "That lead me to my first voyage to South America where our ship sank off the coast of Uruguay,"

"Oh," she frowned, as did he,

"Then I landed up aboard the J. Joyce and Co which took me to New York and back 'round to Shanghai and then I finally made it to White Star Line and the infamous Atlantic run. Aboard the Medic was where I first met Officer Lightoller and then aboard the Olympic was where I first met Chief Officer Wilde and Captain Smith but that was a million and one disasters in itself – no, it didn't sink," he answered her before she could ask, "Then came the Titanic,"

He sighed, "I was going to be Chief Officer but the Captain wanted us all in our previous ranks because he wanted things to be perfect and those tasks we were already comfortable with," he paused, remembering, his face and eyes glazing over as he did so, "Then it sank…how about you?"

She wasn't prepared and her eyes widened, she had been enjoying listening to Murdoch's account of his life, learning about him a little more, this conversation was one they somehow missed aboard the Titanic.

"Well, I'm not as well learned as you, I might start off but I'm from Cork, Ireland. I never went to school, ma made my brother an' I work in the factory as soon as we were old enough because we needed the money and then when she died, I was thirteen an' my brother was nine, we left the factory. Beat us fer no reason…or rather my brother and I would get involved an' we'd both go home in pain. So resorted to…uh…begging," she stole a look at Murdoch to gauge any reaction but he was calm and attentive, his face soft and so she carried on.

"But my brother then on one of his long walks came back and told me about the circus that had jost come tu town and the people he had met. We ended up working as cleaners, cleaning op after the animals and soch when the show was done, lookin' after the animals an' stoff but I couldn't bear the treatment of them so I left and found a small job as a cleaner at the local pub. One day, my brother came home and told me the circus was leavin' fer India in the next two days. I didn't think moch of it until he was gone. Landed op there one time myself and, in vein, tried to find him. 'Twas a stupid thing to do but I did. I haven't seen him since. Anyway various tram steamers and things took me to Europe – Paris and Begium and all the way down to Southampton where I met Mary, who offered me a job as another cleaner at pub she was workin' at, offered me a place to stay in her modest little house – needless to say, she became my closest friend. I can't remember how I landed up in many places, it just sort of…happened. That includes my ticket…I think I found it on the street. Somebody dropped it…and then…it sank,"

She blinked up at him with a shrug. Murdoch was looking at her, his eyes boring into her depths as he took in all that she had told him,

"Well we know of your Grandfather," he smiled briefly, "But where was your father?"

"I don't know," she regarded him as he regarded her, his expression made it seem as if he were desperately trying to grasp something but couldn't so Taro took a guess and answered it, "I'm not quite like you, ye know. I don't have a family trade to follow, no education. The only thing we really have in common is a dream ship we both boarded but dreams don't last, do they? I'm sorry,"

"What are yoo trying to say nou, I wonder," he turned to her fully, his brow furrowed as he waited for her to reply.

"I'm jost saying –"

"You're saying codswallop. Dreams end? Well that's a morbid thought for someone like yoo. And you're not like me?" he smirked, "Thank God. So you're from nowhere land and I'm from Kirkcudbrightshire -(***1**), Scotland, how does that make us so different?"

She looked at him and then over the sea, throwing her arms out in defeat,

"I don't know! I was trying…tu…be dramatic," she wasn't – she was terrified of rejection now that he knew the whole story. Murdoch seemed to get that, seeing straight through her defense,

"No, yoo weren't. Yoo were scared," Murdoch dared,

"Ye think so…" she hadn't risen to the challenge though; her voice was yielding and thoughtful. Murdoch raised his hand to the palm of her check stroked it gently before tucking a strand of hair away,

"I do. I think yoo were worried I wasn't thinking about squids anymore,"

She looked at him, a new radiance in them as she tried to read him. He stole a kiss then and she blinked in shock,

"And you're partially right," he winked at her as her shoulders dropped, "Just before yoo arrived I was thinking about Officer Lightoller's shoes,"

He grinned at her and was ready when she folded into his arms, embracing her fully as she burst into tears. We are woman – our hearts break and mend themselves on a whim and be it joy or sorrow, tears always accompany such extremes.

In the setting sun, Murdoch and Taro were just fine; the Titanic was slowly being left behind, left to the mercy of the ocean, an ocean that rose to the challenge of an unsinkable ship and yet let those who could, simply climb out of its grasp without protest. What else but the sea would do such a thing?

* * *

**(*1) Kudos to the person who can pronounce the name of that town - without staring at in terror at the prospect of trying to do so, first.**


	8. Squids in Dreams and Things

**Titanic Rises 8**

Murdoch woke the next morning in a small cabin assigned to him by the Captain – apparently his 15 years' experience as a seafarer, and a good one too, were worth taking note of. His heart swelled with pride at being given the compliment. The room, though, was small and guarded but it felt safe, for a relatively good sized window was the only source of light and it more than sufficed and the best part was; it wasn't underwater.

He got up, untangling himself from his sleeping companion and wondered to the window where he looked out straight over the horizon, where the sun was not nearly ready to get up. Old habits die hard, he supposed, years of having to wake up before dawn had him where he stood just then. The sea was still as calm as a millpond and looked colder than he remembered – though Murdoch wasn't sure if that wasn't because he now knew how cold it truly was.

Anyway, Murdoch had slept in his briefs for no pyjamas were leant or given to him and Taro, who was still sound asleep having now taken up the whole bed since his departure and there wasn't much space to begin with – no going back to bed today, had slept in her undergarments. After their fairly romantic gaze out aft, their night ended in a heap upon the bed Murdoch had been offered and in turn offered to Miss Taro to share. Taro had stripped herself of her dress and laid her head down and the minute she did, she was gone while Murdoch took a little longer, basking in the thrill of being able to actually lie still with her in his arms but as was said, he had to untangle himself for his leg landed up over hers, her left arm on his face and all the twirls and yet her gunshot shoulder remained unscathed and unmoved. He smiled at her form, dropping slightly when he found her wound and headed out for his cleaning process: bath, dry, shave, change and then breakfast but his appetite hadn't quite caught up so tea it was and he considered waking Moody up but decided against it.

However, upon arrival in the crews mess, he was surprised to find them all there. Moody, Lowe, Boxhall, Wilde, Lightoller – every single one of them, except the few – Captain Smith had not made it, Pitman had not made it…in fact, in essence, the majority of the crew had not made it. The thought saddened him and he could see it on the faces of his fellow Officers. The Officers of the Titanic and of course the Officers on duty aboard the Carpathia were truly astounding; Murdoch guessed they had had a rough night, tearing through dream after dream about _that_ night.

Murdoch sat down next to Wilde who had a cane next to him, his legs obviously not fully recovered. Next to him were Lightoller and Boxhall. Moody and Lowe sat opposite them, Lowe swirling his tea absentmindedly and Moody sipping his with delicacy. Murdoch had to smile,

"Morning, lads," he uttered and on cue, they responded with their respective greetings.

"How's the tea, Mr Moody?"

Moody looked up from his cup and managed a shy smile,

"Just right, Sir,"

Silence again – mornings aboard every vessel always had a variation of morning diners for not everyone was always on duty but the mere knowledge that the people missing at this particular table weren't aboard the Carpathia at all was a heavy weight.

"Talking of tea," Mr Lightoller piped up, all eyes on him, "Anyone up for a cup? Off to boil the kettle. Mr Murdoch?"

"Aye, a bit of milk, 2 sugars,"

"No, no, look front and centre, you're doing that bit yourself,"

Murdoch looked down to find the milk and sugar…front and centre. _Oh._

"Mr lowe?"

Mr Lowe shook his head.

"Mr Moody? No, you're fine. Cripple?" Lightoller turned on Mr Wilde, who glared up at him,

"I'm not a cripple,"

"You have a cane, you are so,"

"Am not,"

"Are so?"

"Not for long,"

"Tea, Sir?"

"Yes, please…in fact," he leaned back in his chair, his expression suddenly sombre "I think we should all have some. We can't drink on board so we won't but for our fellow crew members, for now, tea's the least we can do,"

Aye's all round for that and Mr Lightoller sauntered off to do their bidding. He came back a little while later with all their cups of tea and handed each one to their respectful owners and when everyone was finished with their milk and sugars, Wilde raised his mug – it was odd sort of sight but it was sweet, truly the best they could do,

"To the crew, the best damned crew to ever have sailed and to all those who perished,"

They all took an enormous slurp in unison, but not before Wilde added,

"And to Lowe and Lightoller for saving mine and Will's sorry arses,"

That brought on the first chuckles of the morning, the first few genuine smiles to start the day – not quite the same, but it would do.

**OoOoOoOoO**

Taro glared up at the roof of the bed cradling her forehead, having sat up too quickly and knocking her head yet again. She had woken from a bad dream – the screams and shouts and worst of all - the silence. Nothing had been worse than the silence.

She swung her legs out over the edge of the bed and for a moment was petrified of finding the floor flooded with icy cold water. She placed a hesitant foot on the floor and was relieved that no such thing had occurred. She clumsily put her dress back on, wincing with the movement of her arm and tied her hair up in a mess and headed for the door but not before Murdoch opened it first, standing in the door way with a surprised expression and a cup of tea in his hand,

"Tea?"

She took it from him with a nod of gratitude but is brow furrowed and after a moment his hand went to her head,

"Yoo've got a welt on your head, what did yoo do this time?"

"Bunk ceiling is too low,"

"Ouch," he paused, watching her as she drank her tea, she was distant and grouchy, a bad dream with a knock to the head following the sinking of a ship that was supposed to be the grandest adventure of her life. Fair enough.

"What?"

"What's wrong, love?"

"Horrific dream, I'm fine, thanks fer the tea," she made to move past him but he barred her way,

"Tell me about it,"

"What is there to know that you don't know already?"

"Not a lot but maybe if yoo told me -"

"I don't want to. I'm not experiencing it three times in two days," she intended to push his arm out of the way but he had moved it already and she was on her way. Out on to the deck where she looked out over the sea to find it glinting in the early morning sun. She shut her eyes, trying to relieve herself of the screaming and the silence but her eyes shot open at once – no relief, no calm.

"Charlie?"

Taro turned to find Rose approaching her, cautious and steady,

"Are you alright? I saw you storm out on deck, you looked…"

"Angry? Enraged? Horribly upset? Broken hearted?"

"Just…a little lost,"

Lost was not what she expected although, when Charlotte dug deeper, she found that 'Lost' pretty much summed it up. Her grand adventure had almost killed her and she had lost two friends because of it as well as having the clingiest romantic feelings towards a man for the first time in a long while and above that, she could not shake the feeling of an enduring sense of plague. She felt that the night of the Titanic would come back, at some point, every night for the rest of her life, even if it was only a face she remembered but of course, if her luck held out, she'd be waking up to one such face every morning. There was no escape and there was nothing she could do about it and she was…at a loss over what to make of it.

"Hmmm," she turned away, back to the horizon, unwilling to respond.

"So, no,"

"Well, who is?"

"It'll take time,"

"Look at ye," she turned to Rose with a warm smile, she was amazed, "Ye've lost the most out of us all and here ye are telling me that _my _pain will pass? Yer quite somethin', I'll give ye that,"

Rose let out a little laugh, rough around the edges but at least she wasn't falling apart at the seams, the complete opposite to Miss Taro. It was the silence after the storm…

Rose joined her properly, standing next to her by the railings and leaning out over it to watch the ship ploughing through the still sea although a slight breeze had picked up and now it would be ever so slightly easier to distinguish the night sky from the night sea. She sighed,

"I have my moments, every day so far,"

"And everyday fer the next couple of weeks, I'm sure," she nudged Rose gently, "We'll be fine,"

"Yes," Rose looked up at her, her eyes a blaze with determination – a fire to match the colour of her head, "Yes, we will be just fine. In fact…we'll be better,"

Taro looked at her, astonished at the sudden display of optimism but over the next few days' right until the Friday morning, exactly three days after the Titanic's supposed arrival, Charlotte Taro's mood seemed to be steadily getting worse. She had the same dreams every night and even waking to Murdoch ready to hold her (or leave her be) every time, she still could not shake it off. She seemed to be on a downward spiral…it was the haunting getting worse - the screams and then the silence.

Murdoch had also informed her of the impending enquiry and that was not something she looked forward to either. By the day before, all the Survivors had been informed of their no-questions-asked participation under random selection; only they had all been informed that it would be the day that they docked. That day she was up earlier than Murdoch, before dawn! It was still dark but the horizon was lighting up but a little to humour a yawning sun. Leaning out over the railings and squinting into the morning mist, she could see the little land of New York starting to take shape.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Murdoch wondered into the crews mess shortly after dawn after waking up to find no Taro next to him. He had frowned but opted not to find her for if she wanted his attention in anyway, she would have woken him for it or at least to tell him where she'd be going. He had learnt that much about her during their time together but what had struck him was that…there had been a change. But then again, he had sensed that amongst his crew as well. Hell, he had changed!

He sat down and as usual, all were about the table,

"Morning, Will," said Wilde, raising his tea mug to him. Murdoch nodded and called through to whoever was in the kitchen to be so kind and bring him a slice of bread or two…and tea. A groan indicated that it was Lightoller once more.

"So, America, eh," Boxhall stated bluntly, "Made it,"

Lowe let out a small snort,

"Just,"

Boxhall didn't reply, merely arching and eyebrow at his spoon which he was fiddling with.

"Mr Murdoch?" Wilde took a sip of his tea and licked his lips before looking at Murdoch, "Are you alright, Sir?"

Murdoch blinked at him, narrowing his eyes, trying to understand why he looked so serious,

"I'm just as well off as the rest of yoo,"

"So…shit," Lightoller had just arrived, placing a mug of tea and two slices of buttered bread in front of Murdoch before taking a seat, "I haven't slept in days now, not properly at least and the bloody enquiries start in 8 hours. Why do they want us questioned within hours of coming into Port? We won't be able to think straight,"

"Probably because they want to get it underway, the sooner it starts the sooner it finishes," Wilde ventured, beginning to fiddle with his tea as Boxhall fiddled with his spoon.

"Well, we've also had three days off," Boxhall added,

"Hardly enough time to gather one's wits," Lightoller retorted, folding his arms, resisting the urge to fiddle.

"I reckon Mr Wilde's got the right of it," Lowe entering the conversation with ease, "The sooner the better,"

"Yes, well, I can't guarantee the information I give them will be up to scratch," Lightoller scowled,

"I don't think anyone's expecting explanations regarding the finest details, Charles," Murdoch tried to assure him, slumping in his chair slightly, elbows on the table – his mother would be rolling in her grave.

"Yes, I'm sure no one's going to say you shot anyone," Lowe grinned at Lightoller who looked utterly horrified at the thought while Boxhall chuckled at him. Meanwhile, Murdoch had gone rigid; abandoning his bread and mug, merely staring at its contents, well aware of the cautious glances Wilde and Moody threw at him. He was confused for a moment as to why Moody did but then he remembered – Young Mr Moody was there.

Lightoller got up again, in disgust at the very prospect of being falsely accused of shooting anyone – it made Murdoch cringe even more, the involuntary beginnings of a crease between his brows betraying his feelings towards the subject.

"Say no more! I am going to wash up and then I'm going to leave you," Lightoller was looking specifically at Lowe who was taking an innocent sip of his left over tea but Murdoch felt as if it were aimed at him. In between that time, Wilde leaned over slightly,

"Don't let it get to you, Will,"

Murdoch looked up at him and glanced at Moody who was looking worried too, bless. He shook his head, dismissing it,

"I'm fine. I am,"

Wilde's gazed lingered on him for a moment after Murdoch responded, weighing the possibilities, the truth against the lie…but he reached a conclusion and settled back in his seat. Moody, however, was still gazing at Murdoch with uncertainty but Murdoch refused to meet it.

"Right, I'm off," Lightoller returned, brushing off his hands,

"To?" Boxhall implored,

"I think I'll stand at the helm, see if I can run us aground, then we won't have to go through this blasted enquiry,"

Wilde looked up at him with alarm,

"I'm pretty sure it will help, actually," he responded as if to say 'on the contrary' causing Lightoller to look down at him with disbelief before uttering,

"No," and departing. Moody got up next, then Lowe and then Boxhall until again, it was just Wilde and Murdoch. Murdoch was in the middle of registering a change in the way Lightoller acted around the Chief Officer when the latter suddenly stated,

"So this woman,"

Murdoch looked up in surprise but Wilde carried right on,

"Is she the one you met on the ship?"

Murdoch dipped his head,

"Aye,"

"Ah…did she…I'm sorry," he shook the question off but Murdoch responded anyway,

"She's fine," he smiled at Wilde whose face lit up in return, "Just fine. And between yoo and me, Sir, she's in my bed every night,"

Wilde's eyes widened and he picked up his obviously empty cup and attempted to take a sip, choking on the tea bits left at the bottom. Murdoch knew what he was thinking but chose not to correct him. His and Taro's nights had been remarkably uneventful; in fact it was more comforting that way.

"Better remind them to change the sheets,"

Murdoch laughed at Wilde's awkward comment, a good haughty laugh followed by a few minutes of silence, content with each other.

Murdoch considered excusing himself to leave and find his lady love for she had had enough time now, surely. But just as he was about to do so, Wilde let out an exasperated moan first and within a blink and with a thud, Wilde's forehead was on the table, his voice becoming muffled from the coverage and his eyes screwed tight shut,

"…what's wrong?" Murdoch sat up straight, preparing for the worst if it was possible but Wilde only shook his head, "The binoculars…they were missing,"

"Yes?" Murdoch frowned…the case of the missing binoculars had been a curious case indeed throughout the duration of the Titanic trip, why would Wilde bring it up now?

"They weren't missing,"

"No?"

"No, I put them under Moody's bed for safe keeping just before we left and forgot they were there…"

"Yoo forgot where yoo _hid…_the binoculars…"

Wilde nodded and Murdoch slumped, the case solved in mere seconds. He looked at Wilde and opened his mouth but Wilde got there first, issuing his index finger in front of Murdoch's face forcing him to squint at it,

"Not…a word to Lightoller,"

**OoOoOoOoO**

The time had come; the passengers of the RMS Titanic were getting rounded up in their various classes for transport to the court room for the inquiry. At the dock, Taro found herself a part of the random selectees alongside Rose. She watched in envy as the other passengers got their respective ways home while a large first class American woman seemed to be making particularly sure that people had a definite place to go. Taro later found out that that woman's name was Margaret Brown…the Unsinkable Molly Brown…that brave, brave wonderful woman.

Then they were directed towards a bus. Upon getting into it, Taro tried to find Murdoch behind her for the Officers appeared to be going separately, but she couldn't see him and Rose was urging her forward, getting stingy but she wanted to see him…especially in this moment…she wanted to see him but he was not there with the rest of them.

That was until she was suddenly pulled from the steady stream of people. She turned in a confounded sort of manner and found herself staring at _himself_.

"Will!"

"Charlie," he smiled, "Will yoo be alright? I tried to find yoo as soon as I heard yoo were a selection,"

The "s" for "selection" rolled off his tongue bitterly, his eyes portraying his distaste,

"I know yoo've been having a…trying time,"

Taro looked at him; confused, feigned of course! She thought she'd been hiding it well. Alas! All bubbles must be burst.

"I'm fine,"

"No, don't be silly," he rubbed her arms, again, his face darkening whence he laid eyes upon her injured limb but that smile of his came back when he looked at her face, "Nobody's fine,"

"Yer not fine, then,"

"No…"

Taro blinked at him, his mournful eyes dropping as regret caused through him, she got the impression that this was the first time that he'd admitted to not being ok out loud. She pulled him into her one arm, wrapping it around his neck while he leant into her embrace and stroked the back of her head,

"We'll be alright, Love, yoo and I," he pulled away, glancing up at the bus as it rumbled into action, "All aboard,"

Taro glanced at it too and suddenly her feelings changed…drastically, like the wind. She wasn't on the Titanic anymore but that made no difference, the point being, she now felt like if she had to choose running to find Murdoch or running to find her friends…Murdoch would be it.

But she boarded none the less, staring out the window after Murdoch as he made his way back to his fellow officers. Upon glancing back, he caught her eye, winking at her…and then he was gone.

The bus ride was short but the heavy dread was everywhere as the passengers selected to give their account of the story, waited to arrive, still barely even able to hold back their tears over thinking about it never mind, telling the story. They all piled out, single file on arrival and hesitant as officers of the court guided them in. Upon a final look before entering, she spotted the officers and crew filing in through a different entrance.

It was Lightoller first alongside Mr Lowe and Boxhall. His stride was purposeful and aggressive, his hand gestures as he spoke were a dead, frustrated give away. Moody, then Murdoch and then Wilde followed, talking quietly amongst themselves, containing their distaste for the situation in a more dignified manner. Then came the rest of what was left of the crew, though they seemed relaxed but then again, they had nothing to hide really, nothing to answer for…except for maybe Quartermaster Hitchens who notably refused to row lifeboat 6 back when Wilde and Smith had apparently called for them to do so and Wilde was there to ensure that that was, indeed, answered for.

Rose and Taro sat close to each other, the all too human instinct that happened after trauma – in times of trial and fear, people have a tendency to stay as physically close to each other as possible hence the duo that waited like many others for the masses to settle down before anything of real importance happened.

Then it did, Senator Smith was a gaudy looking man, deeply wrinkled and a permanent scowl, hardened by many years of interrogation and struggle with those who chose to argue with him.

"Right," he proclaimed, "Welcome to the New York Court of Council. This inquiry is now in motion and silence and cooperation are warranted. Failure to comply or to tell the truth will result in your arrests however this _is _just an investigation into the sinking of the late RMS Titanic and I see no reason as to why lies should be told. But on that note, the injustices committed on that night, which I am sure there must have been, will be _brought_ to justice." Taro was very much aware that there was a lot to come out, too much perhaps. Many mistakes in favour of heroics, this could mean the end for many. Her thoughts fluttered to Murdoch yet again,

"Now," the senator sighed, continuing as he sat, "The procedure will be to start with the most senior member of the crew and then first class passenger one and so on. Mr Wilde, is it?"

Wilde stood, uneasy on his legs and cane,

"Yes, Sir,"

"Please take to the chair," the senator motioned to a lonely chair beside his desk of office which Wilde approached warily, all too aware of the sceptical scrutiny let on by the senator before being addressed again,

"State your full name and position, Mr Wilde,"

"Chief Officer Henry Tingle Wilde,"


	9. The Inquiry into the Squids

Many days had come and gone since the beginning of the enquiry. Wilde had gone up hesitantly and had held his own heroically while being well and truly drilled to the bone with all sorts of questions about the makeup of the ship, whether, perhaps, he thought that the sealing together of the hull may have been done carelessly with loose rivets or otherwise put together with cheap steel to cut costs. He of course denied all of it saying that he'd been patrolling the ship for three days prior to departure and he had noticed no such faults and then swooping to the defence of Mr Andrews, he retorted that the Irishman from Harland and Wolff had done a fine job. He was then bombarded with questions concerning the state of the life boats and whether they were set for the initial task, whether there were enough and he was threatened too!

"Do you understand, Mr Wilde," the Senator growled, "That it is against the legislation to have less than the required amount of boats on board…it's illegal,"

Obviously,

"And dangerous too," Mr Wilde turned to look him in the eye, steadily for the first time, "Which is why we met the requirements, Sir, minimum though they may have been but you can take that up with Harland and Wolff. You don't have to tell me about legislation, I've been in the seafaring business much longer than you have," Pause, "Sir,"

Mr Wilde's tone was fierce but calm, bringing the senator to an involuntary stop seconds before embarking on a mission to preach to Mr Wilde on his incompetence as Chief Officer. Murdoch felt a smile place itself on his lips, praising the high heavens for not making _him_ Chief Officer despite how badly he had wanted it. Mr Wilde was grand and he had managed to dodge certain calls of information – not because he wanted to retain anything, but because he didn't want to be the one to bring anyone down and he would go on the basis that he withheld this information because no one asked him for it. It was perfectly plausible or so Mr Murdoch thought. It was entertaining too, watching him rise up from the fire whenever the Senator pushed the limits too far and he did so with grace.

Glancing over at Miss Taro he could see that she, and many others that had been watching, were impressed by Mr Wilde's display of dignified fight. He smirked before turning his attention back to what was before him. But hours upon hours of questioning under scrutiny about various stages of the voyage had taken place since then with other passengers and crew – Murdoch himself had gone up once or twice or five times, maybe but they had not reached the questioning over the actual collision yet. He still dreaded that part for he would be out-ed surely and he would have to face the consequences but for now, it was enough to learn the views of others, many were in fact immensely entertaining – Mr Lowe's questioning was hilarious though no one dared entertain the tragic humour – the Senator had been quite serious,

"Before we move on, Mr Lowe, I would like to know – upon the night of the collision, had there been many warnings?"

"I never received any, Sir, but every time I went on duty I was told to keep a whither eye out."

"For icebergs?"

"Yes, Sir,"

"Were you aware that Captain Smith had received many?"

"Warnings, Sir? I was aware of some, Sir, but Icebergs are normal for this time of year so I didn't think much of it,"

"Mr Lowe, do you know what an iceberg is made up of?"

This caught everybody off guard – surely the answer was obvious but Lowe had not been there the day that Mr Boxhall was questioned on the matter and his answer was that it was ice and pieces of rock that made up an iceberg but of course…Lowe didn't know this. His face gave his thoughts of idiocy away with a raised brow and a flat tone,

"Ice…I suppose, Sir,"

It was an effort to keep from laughing. Other than for comparative reasons, the question seemed pointless.

**OoOoOoOoO**

Taro had had her moments, moments where she thought the boredom might kill her, moments where her life had literally flashed before her eyes but then sometimes, she would find herself on the verge of a snigger; Mr Lowe had been tremendous. Others were simply dumbfounded by the questions they were asked same as the rest of the court. The senator was either taking the offensive piss out of the entire situation or he was, quite simply, ridiculously dim. Neither seemed to work given how serious he looked and how seriously he regarded his questions. Some were relevant though, real back stabbers too but many things came to light.

But Taro, in times of crisis when death by boredom was waiting, stole lingering glimpses at Murdoch who sometimes would glance back and they would hold each other's gaze in mutual disinterest. She liked looking at him, his eyes were strikingly blue…like the sea on a good day but he looked tense, his arms were folded tightly against him, high up on his chest and although he would snigger at the seemingly stupid questions and/or answers, the amusement was quick to go.

Anyway, Taro had not gone up yet oddly enough, despite the long hours that had already been passed in which most people had gone up twice already, including Rose. The two times Rose had come down, though, she had been left in an utterly foul mood and Taro was reminded that she was content with having to sit and listen rather than listen and tell.

At last, as was inevitable, the night of the sinking had arrived; April 15th, 1912, was back on the radar.

"Mr Lightoller, please come up and take a seat,"

Taro glanced over to where Lightoller and the rest of the officers had been sitting. She caught Mr Lightoller's eye as he strode by for the umpteenth time, a right scowl on his face, and then Murdoch's. He gave her a queer look before looking on at his friend as he took a seat. Taro took this look to mean that good things did not lie ahead of this particular interrogation,

"Where were you, Mr Lightoller, when Titanic hit the berg?"

"I was on my rounds,"

"Where on your rounds?"

"I can't remember, Sir, I must have been by the stern of the ship,"

"What makes you say that?"

"I remember the feel of the knock but I don't remember seeing it before then…only minutes after,"

"Then what did you do?"

Lightoller gave a full account of his proceedings minutes before and after the collision, paying the required amount of attention to detail as he did so but his scowl didn't lessen…if anything, it got worse.

He eventually came to the end of his harrowing tale, by which time the entire court house had gone silent, describing how he had done a last run of the starboard side of the poop deck to find Murdoch and/or Wilde but was washed down and away when the ship took a drastic turn for the worst and plunged down dramatically causing him to lose his footing and slide down, correcting himself at the last minute and diving into the sea and following that, his account of a near drowning and then the gathering of survivors to an overturned lifeboat. At this point, Senator Smith unwisely chose to ask Lightoller,

"Mr Lightoller, were you aware of another ship near you that night?"

"I had seen lights, Sir," Lightoller's scowl disappeared and he looked up at the Senator, confused, "Why?"

"I have here that the Californian was much closer to you,"

"Yes, Sir, the ship's lights made it look as if it may have been far closer than the Carpathia,"

It was here that Taro took one last glance at Murdoch who was already leaning forward to hear the truth of the matter, before she and Rose leaned forward in anticipation too.

"Did you conclude that it must have been further away than you thought?"

"I did, Sir. The weather conditions of the night and the atmosphere lead to all sort of miscalculations. I deemed my judgement of that ship as another and had no doubt that it was doing its best,"

"Now, Mr Lightoller, we have looked into this and I assure you we have already taken the necessary actions for such folly on behalf of Captain Lord of the Californian and therefore you must not worry yourself, Captain Lord is very sorry. He informed us that when the distress signals came about, he did not realise that the Titanic was so close and that you were in fact an entirely different ship altogether which he ignored, though he was fully prepared to come to the aid of the Titanic."

"We sent up flares, Sir," Lightoller's expression had hardened, his tone as cold as the ice that sunk the Titanic, his eyes flaring with rage, "You can't mistake a flare,"

"No, we enquired into that too, he tells us that he thought your ship was merely a ship with a broken rudder and could easily be assisted in the morning,"

Lightoller was silent, his eyes locking with that of Murdoch's and Taro was aware of the tension and the mutual rage that hung between them…between them all.

"Sir, if I may ask, why are you tell me this and not the other Officers?"

"Captain Lord is well aware of your reputation for being a "hard-case" as he puts it, and requested that he apologise to _you _first for you were the one most likely act on your rage,"

Lightoller's eyes sort out the offender more quickly than one would have expected – Everyone turned, following his gaze to the back of the room to where a tall bearded man stood with his arms folded and a look of guilt etched on his face,

"Do you not have the courage to stand before us all and admit that?" he growled softly but the room was quiet enough for his low rumble to be like an echo,

"Mr Lightoller, do calm yourself," the Senator interjected half-heartedly but it was dismissed for not even Wilde made the effort to calm him though no one expected what happened next. When Captain Lord said nothing, Lightoller rose rapidly from his seat and started towards the timid man at the back of the hall. Everyone was in such a stupor at the sudden acceleration, no one made a move to stop him. He marched down spewing out terrible facts with such rage as he approached him,

"We were sinking; we were sending out radio signals, we were firing flares, we even sent you our position! AND YOU IGNORED US? BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT US JUST ANOTHER SEA SAVVY SHIP WITH A BROKEN RUDDER? Hundreds of people, YOU BASTARD!"

He roared right into Lord's face by which time the Captain had shut his eyes and took it with salt. His eyes were red and raw but he looked Lightoller in the eye once he had finished,

"I'm sorry…but your position was wrong. That was another reason why we ignored it…we thought you a different ship because you were in a different position in comparison to the one you sent us. I'm so sorry, Mr Lightoller,"

Lightoller glowered at him for a moment, time for one breath, before he raised his right hand and decked the poor man right in the nose, dead centre making him blanch back with a cry of agony as his hands flew to the rescue of his bloody nose. It was only then that Mr Murdoch rose with quiet authority, turning to Lightoller,

"Come nou, Mr Lightoller, take a seat and let us finish this,"

Lightoller did as he was bid, stalking back to the chair from which he rose and sat down again,

"Right then, back to the proceedings," even the Senator was taken aback by the shock occurrence but back to the proceedings it awkwardly went.

It was the most extraordinary part of the entire enquiry. No one made one move to prevent Lightoller from doing what he did and yet no action was taken after it. It simply past over them all without consequence and Lightoller, though still in a rage, looked all the better for it. A hard-case was the term used to describe him and Taro found herself agreeing with it whole heartedly.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

It was Murdoch's turn to be called up again, though this time he went up with fear, the knowledge that this was it. More than a couple of people mentioned that someone, notably he, had shot passengers and with Taro sitting right before the Senator, it was not something the Senator was going to write off easily. He was glaring at Murdoch when he took his seat,

"Mr Murdoch," he stated bluntly, "From the point of these accusations, I would like you tell me your side of the story, with no additions other than more of the truth,"

"Yes, Sir," he locked eyes with Miss Taro, she bravely held his gaze with as much strength as she could offer him, the smallest amount of assurance in the fact that if no one else was, then she would definitely still be there at the end.

"You may proceed then,"

And so Mr Murdoch did. He gave his account with all the exact details of his whereabouts during the collision, the orders he'd called including the now infamous "Hard-a-starboard" and the equally as infamous "hard-a-port" with the intention of getting the stern clear of the berg. Which worked, one might add. He went into detail of his work throughout the night which included the shocking truth,

"I panicked…for one moment, Sir, I panicked. I was already under immense pressure and with the added fear of the passengers storming the boat when it wasn't ready proved too much for me. You see, the boat would be useless if I was unable to free it from its cables and that was all that was going through my head. And then, gun in hand, Sir, one man lost it and tried to storm it alone,"

He hesitated, his breath hitching as he caught the eyes of his fellow officers, each one besides Moody and Wilde, were wide with shock and horror.

"What did you do, Mr Murdoch?" the Senator urged,

"I- I shot him, Sir,"

"It says here there were two men you shot," Senator Smith challenged with a frown. Murdoch felt his heart sink – the moment of truth was here, this was effectively, the end of his career. He took a long breath, locking eyes with Taro again,

"Three, Sir,"

Gasps all around,

"Three?"

"Yes, Sir. An Irishman was the second, he was an accident shoved forward by the commotion behind him which I mistook for another attempt at a storming. I shot him. I intended to shoot myself afterwards but then brave Miss Taro here," he gestured to her with a broken smile, all eyes now on her, "Tried to stop me from doing so which worked but not with charm – I shot her too as the gun got caught…somewhere…I'm unsure of hou, exactly but she tumbled over the side and I followed,"

He looked at the Senator who looked pensive, said nothing, and encouraged him to continue without a word and so with looks of horror, shock, pity and compassion all directed at him, Murdoch continued, still gazing at Taro as if telling only her the proceedings of the night on his terms. He watched her begin to tear up when he told them all of the boat above he and Wilde and then the death of Titanic. By the end, the room was silent again, more so than with the event of Lightoller. By the end, Murdoch could not keep his regret from his outer shell. His blue eyes overflowed uncontrollably and his head collapsed into his waiting hands and he wept.

The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop but people weren't angry…they were…amazed it seemed, their mouths agape and their eyes wide.

He felt an arm wrap itself around his shoulders as best it could and he knew who it was and though it was warm and tight and comforting, it did not take away the God-awful pain he was feeling – he had disappointed himself to no end.

Anyway, later that very same day, Murdoch stood with his hands clasped behind his back trying to smell the sea but they were too far from it. He was standing alone, not wanting to hear the feedback just yet. Wilde had assured him that the others would understand but Murdoch wasn't so sure. For the 15 minutes they had been out there (break – no one could endure a whole day of this without a break) he had repeatedly snuck glances towards the group of Officers, often in time to see Lightoller getting stopped by Wilde or Lowe and low whispers would float over to him and he'd hear things like "alone" and "he's upset" and more such things, each one he completely agreed with. Lightoller didn't seem angry though, his face was closer to Moody's expression when he had first taken the shots, which was a dramatic change to a face such as Lightoller's. He was confused, desperate to truly understand why, his face was…incomprehensible but Murdoch couldn't deal with explaining just yet.

He shut his eyes to the sun and imagined the sea before him but all that came back was the damn gun.

"Mr Murdoch?"

Murdoch turned, hoping it was Taro but the voice was deeper, huskier, it was her red headed friend…what was her name, did he ever meet her? She was attractive -very and young. But he chose not to say anything, he hadn't the energy,

"Charlie's just been called up, I think you might want to come and listen,"

He did, but how did she know but then again, so far the displays of the affection had not been on the down low, it was at the point where one might be considered an idiot if they had missed the signs.

Of course he'd see her but his less than slow reaction caused this new woman to try convincing him,

"She's terrified, she won't say it but she looks it,"

"Thank you, Miss," he smiled stiffly and strode past her into the room where he saw Taro seated on the very edge of her seat, ashen. When he caught her eye, he winked but didn't get much of a response.

**OoOoOoOoO**

"Silence in the court!" the Senator roared over the incoming commotion, "Silence! Now, Miss Taro, when you are ready, please state your full name and then we shall go on,"

Taro nodded, she was shaking. The sort of shake you could feel in your bones when something you dreaded dealing with finally had to be dealt with…or the cold.

"Charlotte Evelyn Taro,"

"Evelyn?" the senator looked impressed for some odd reason and Taro found herself being momentarily, almost, overcome by a strong desire to throw something at him. The chair would suffice but he'd see it coming too soon. She frowned and before he could ask her to carry on she had already started – start to finish within minutes but only because she missed out extensive details, filling in the gaps with claims of doing not much different from what others were doing and the iceberg looked the same as people had been describing it and yes, she always assumed it was made up of ice too. In closing she looked the Senator dead in the eye with an unwavering glare she didn't think was available at the time, the shakes were distracting and the memories were horrifying and so she concluded that it was for these reasons that she managed to find a way to not have a shaky voice throughout the explanation: Just ignore the detail, it would have been the same in the end.

"And there ye have it," she glanced at him again, "Ye don't need my details, they're the same. What is this fer, exactly? So far all ye've done is point out the wrongs that were done and that icebergs are icebergs and that aye, the ship did indeed hit one."

The Senator was silent as he considered her, formulating his answer,

"Miss Taro, it is to understand the mistakes for there were many, it is for the closure families of the deceased are looking for, it is to recognise who is worth remembering and who needs to answer for their actions, it is legal action against the media who come up with myths such as an unsinkable ship and perhaps Harland and Wolff for correcting them. There are a great many things which will come from this enquiry, Miss Taro, trust and you will see. In time but for now, that will be all as I assume you have had enough of answering my questions though they may have been few in number,"

Taro didn't hesitate as Mr Lowe was called up once more, hopefully, for his sake, for the last time. She sat and prepared to hear Mr Lowe give his side of things all over again but she missed most of it, his voice was so far while she recalled what the Senator had said, in essence it was not about the how and why's of the sinking at all – it was about the people. Ah yes, that made sense. Happy in her conclusion, she came back from her thoughts and looked up at Murdoch, his chin resting on his hands, elbows on his knees, listening with features glazed over with memory; the room was quiet once more, even the Senator was listening with intensity, a hurt look ever so subtle-like over his brow. It was like she was the only one alive really, looking around at the various faces as each one told a different story: of loss, love, horror, regret – mere memory. And then she realised what Lowe was talking about,

"I said that we had to go back. I wanted to transfer all passengers from collapsible A into boat No. 7, so that we had one free boat to pick up as many people as we could. One Woman I found was trying to sneak over into the next boat but she was in too much of a hurry so I pulled off her shawl and found 'her' to be a 'him'. He accompanied me and three other men back to the wreck sight but by that stage, the screams were finished, only a few lonely voices echoed out over the sea. It was still as calm as a millpond, Sir; those voices flew to us over that water...It was dark, we could barely see anything but it was like…ghosts appearing from the darkness – my torch didn't go far but when they appeared before us, the bodies, there seemed to be no end and we didn't have time or means to check everyone. We pulled 6 men out of the water, two of whom died on board,"

"It was just your boat who went back, Mr Lowe," the Senator uttered, his eyes fixed on Lowe,

"As far as I know, Sir,"

"How many were saved, Mr Lowe? I realise that should have been one of the first questions I should have asked…"

Lowe hesitated, thinking about his answer,

"705 people, Sir,"

"Out of how many people aboard the Titanic?"

"2200 souls, Sir,"

The Senator shut his eyes, wrinkling at the corners as he began to try and comprehend the true magnitude of what had happened and Taro got the distinct feeling that for the first time since the beginning of this whole ordeal, Senator Smith was finally beginning to understand,

"And how many went into the sea?"

"…1500 souls lost, Sir,"

With that the Senator was finally up to speed as he let out a loud, mournful sigh and his own head dropped slightly, his eyes still shut. The whole court seemed to have finally all gotten into the same boat, to the same level of understanding which gave a strange sense of unity between them all – a bond, small but there.

"Alright," the Senator opened his eyes, whatever it was he was considering with such fervour had finally enabled him to reach a conclusion. He rose abruptly, his eyes bright and his scowl gone…he had a look of calm, his shoulders were straighter, his chin higher, a settled mind, you might say. Lowe looked bewildered and Taro was sure everyone else mirrored his bewildered expression, for she was quite surprised by the sudden change in the atmosphere too,

"All rise,"

They all did…awkwardly,

"These proceedings, I am happy to announce, have come to their end though many conclusions have yet to be made – more time will be required to make them, there are equally as many conclusions that _have_ been made. Quarter Master Hitchens' behaviour was less than parliamentary and will be paid for; his punishment will be between him and British law. Captain Lord's failure to give aid to or recognise the distress of Titanic will also be dealt with accordingly between him and the Law of the US. Mr Murdoch,"

Everyone's breath hitched then and Murdoch, Taro could see, froze as his gaze met the Senator's. The tension, so taught so as be like string, grew tighter still until the Senator suddenly…smiled. Taro cocked her head and raised an eyebrow for a smile from Senator Smith was the last thing she expected after so many weeks of ruthless interrogation,

"It's alright, Son," he said, his smile warm and compassionate, one of the greatest surprises, "You're alright. Mr Murdoch, you are pardoned for your actions due to heroic acts performed before and after the incident as well as the incident itself being part of a control mechanism to maintain order for which those who were willing to comply, could benefit. White Star Line requires you still as Chief Officer aboard _the_ _Olympic; The Conquest _has need of refurnishing, and Mr Lightoller as your 2nd Officer. All those in need of a passage home, the US are willing to compensate for that passage. Please see the Steward outside the door to your left. Thank you for your cooperation ladies and gentlemen, I hope that we shall never meet again. God bless,"

And he got down from his chair and walked out without another word.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Murdoch stood outside once more, waiting for the masses to dissipate, watching the clump of people accumulate by the steward organising a passage back. Not as many as he thought.

But he was looking for Taro, which was what mattered - if he could organise it, which he was sure he could, if Taro wanted to come back, she would come back on _the Olympic _with him, he had organised it in his head already. And that was that – he was Chief Officer now, he could do whatever he wanted…almost.

"You know, I like young Miss Taro and she suits you. You…uh…glow? Yes…when you see her. I picked up that you fancied her a long while ago and no, I haven't told anyone but after today…maybe it doesn't matter who I tell. Your stunt with the gun however,"

Murdoch turned to find Lightoller gazing at him softly, no accusations there, no judgement. It was nothing but Murdoch's friend looking at him now,

"…is over. I don't care. As far as I'm concerned, I didn't see it, it never happened. You're still you, Will, just another experience under your belt, eh,""

Murdoch's relief was…spectacular and he turned back with a smile to gaze upon the masses accumulating by the steward. He saw Taro walk out and stop, considering the clump of people for a moment, decide against it and start making her way away from them, towards him which might change things. His moment was arriving and he was going to deal with it, with a clear conscious. But Lightoller hadn't left,

"Just don't shoot us on _the Olympic_," he grinned as Murdoch spun around in a love-struck disturbed fury,

"I knew yoo would say something like that, yoo bastard!"


End file.
